


Hollow

by Snoezibol, YRwrites



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Demo and Sniper go pedophile hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It will have trigger warnings, M/M, Pedophilia, Self-Harm, This story is heavily themed, writing project
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2020-10-27 01:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20751797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoezibol/pseuds/Snoezibol, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YRwrites/pseuds/YRwrites
Summary: After a night out with the team takes an odd turn, Demo and Sniper make an agreement to maim and kill pedohiles. But is it really just a case of morals, or is there more than meets the eye?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so Tumblr just kept eating this story whenever I post it, so I'm trying again here
> 
> Me and my friend YRwrites are working together on a writing project/challenge where, after agreeing on a main story line and setting some basic guidelines, every chapter will be written by someone else. We are completely free to do whatever (keeping the guidelines in the back of our heads, however) and no matter how a certain chapter ends, the other person has to continue the next chapter with whatever the other person gave you. So I present to you the very first chapter of Hollow and the next will be written by YRwrites (go check them out on Tumblr @yrwrites !) 
> 
> As mentioned before, this story is heavily themed so there will be trigger warnings whenever they're needed!  
Trigger warnings:  
There is a mention to child pornography, but it does not get described! Also the theme of pedophilia gets implied and mentioned, but there is no description of any of that! So take care and please do not proceed onwards if you know that it'll effect you badly!

"Come on lad, we haven't got all day." Demo mused silently, giving the public building before them a piercing look. "You finding him yet?"

Sniper hummed positively where he was peering through his cope, seemingly unbothered by Demo's nagging. "Got him right in sight."

"Get on with it then, mate, it's getting awfully late." Sniper simply nodded to Demo's attempt to usher him on, finger slowly curling around the trigger as the head of some middle - aged man served as his target. He's seen the picture time after time, Sniper knew he simply couldn't be mistaken.

And as he finally went to pull the trigger, sending a bullet whizzing through the air until it punctured itself a way into the man's skull, both Demo and Sniper watched with an expression that simply read 'yet another job well done', before turning to share a high five and getting the hell away from there.

They heard a few distant screams, some comically loud gasps as they fled back to Demo's car, but nothing out of the ordinary. That night's kill had gone pretty smoothly, but that was only made possible because Sniper had used his rifle for this one instead of their usual all fists and knives method.

Well if Sniper had to be perfectly honest, his rifle was too nice of a way to put them out, he very much _preferred _the other method, seeing as that every single person they targeted was a fully confirmed criminal and they simply didn't deserve any better.

Pedophiles, rapists, those were the people Demo and Sniper personally sought out and hunted down like helpless pray. Those nasty and perverted fucks turning other people's life into a living hell deserved nothing better than to fall victim to these two and as Sniper was rushing down the street and jumping into the passenger's seat of Demo's car while police sirens were blasting in the distance, his mind drifted off to the very first time they found themselves in a situation like this.

One evening, about six or seven months ago, the team had set out to go drink in a local pub. It'd been just another way to relax, to get away from base and spend time together without guns and bombs laying around and without people screaming bloody murder because they were getting blown into pieces.

All evening Soldier had been yelling about his travels to Europe. An inconsistent mess of different happenings had left the patriot with passion and it'd been a true delight to listen to. Sometimes Demo would chime in, make some joke that had everyone laughing before Soldier would very much continue with that crooked grin still resting on his face.

It'd been a stellar evening, Sniper had to admit. Everyone was having fun, everyone was laughing along and drinking, relaxed and completely unbothered and it was nice to see his teammates so carefree. He'd smiled at the sight as he leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. A fond expression had set across his face as Scout had started to tell one of his childhood stories, many stories with which the marksman was already familiar.

His eyes had drifted away from the table for a second, his eternal paranoia requiring a scan of the room, to be aware of the people around him, a habit he'd always taken with him ever since he'd become an assassin and a habit that _clearly_ died hard.

But as his eyes moved across the room, he couldn't help but to stare at one face in particular. There, sat in the corner of the crowded room, where two middle - aged men. They were slightly hunched over, clearly hushing their words to one another and making it far out impossible for Sniper to read the lips of the man sitting faced towards him, but it was _that _exact man - his face - who seemed familiar to Sniper somehow, as if he'd seen him somewhere before.

He thought it over, very much enjoying the advantage of wearing his shooting glasses as it bought him more time to really examine the man's face. There was just _something_, something Sniper clearly couldn't put his finger on until the very moment the situation in his head just _clicked_ and his heart suddenly picked up speed, eyes widening behind his aviators.

He knew that guy, his face had been all over the news a while back, how could Sniper forget that? This man, this _monster_, had been charged with child molestation and had _confessed_ to it none the less, but thanks to some fucked up lawyer - who clearly had no concept of morals - this man had run free after that piece of shit had found a procedural mistake in the trial. All because of some _human error_ this freak had been let go.

He was a pedophile and it had Sniper's stomach turning in discomfort and his expression going slightly dark. Something had to be done. 

"Everything okay?" Scout very suddenly yet softly speaking to him managed to drag Sniper away from that old fuck sitting at the other side of the bar as he looked back at the runner with a smile.

"Yeah," He assured Scout as casually as he could, hand gesturing out to grab his beer and take a sip. "I'm fine, love." That answer seemed to settle Scout enough as he flashed Sniper a smile and turned himself to rejoin the conversation, all previous worry leaving him in a second.

That was a close call, Sniper thought to himself. It sure wasn't very subtle to be sitting there and having a one-sided stare down with random strangers, but Sniper just couldn't help this familiar itch to do _something_ about this situation. That man was an at large criminal! And he was _just_ sitting in a bar living his life like he hadn't spiralled countless of children into a right hell because of what he had done. It was unfair, _so_ unfair and despite this internal conflict, Sniper knew he had already made up his mind. 

He just needed another vantage point.

He slid a hand over Scout's shoulder to get his attention, before telling the runner: "I'm going to the bathroom real quick, I'll be right back." and giving him a peck on the cheek. Scout gave him a smile and a thumbs up in return and Sniper was well on his way to completely... _not_ go to the bathroom.

He stood up slowly and buried his hands into his pockets, head tipping down slightly to not draw any attention to himself as he walked towards the bathroom, surely minding to pass his target as he made his way through the bar. His pace was slow and calculated, ears listening for any kind of information he could get and despite their whispering and stolen looks around themselves, Sniper did still manage to pick something up and _what_ he heard had his blood boiling and his hands slightly shaking. It was _fucking_ horrible.

The marksman shook his head as he entered the restroom, hands tightly gripping onto the porcelain sink as he looked at himself in the mirror. Their conversation bounced like a rubber ball inside his skull as his jaw clenched and unclenched in anger or disgust, whatever dejected feeling that had him yearn even _more_ to teach this guy a lesson. There was absolutely no reason for this perverted fuck to be out on the streets presumably still pulling the same fucked up bullshit as before and end up unscathed through it all, not on Sniper's watch.

He took a deep settling breath and gave his own reflection a nod. As if to tell himself that it was okay, give himself a green light on the plan that was quickly building inside his head and as he felt around his pockets, Sniper's expression lighted up slightly at the knowledge and reminder that he _had_ brought a knife with him. Things were looking up.

It'd been a while since his last _real_ assassination, however, and given that most of his jobs were done within the comfort of being literal miles away, this was a rather bold path for him to take. But it was worth it, a bullet to the head would be - in Sniper's own humble opinion - too nice of a way out. It wouldn't make him _suffer_ and this guy needed to fucking suffer.

So Sniper returned to his seat, leaning between lending one ear to the conversation living between his teammates and keeping an unnoticed eye on his target for the rest of the evening until the very moment the older men gave his equally fucked up drinking buddy a crooked smile and stood up to leave. Suddenly Sniper's senses were at high alert, having to keep himself from jumping off of his chair and chasing the guy as he paced himself with the knowledge that blowing his cover now would give that man an out and Sniper really didn't want him to get away.

He waited for about ten seconds before he once again stood from his seat, using the very bleak excuse of needing to step outside for a bit to grab a smoke. Sniper didn't even wait for any responses, currently too occupied with not wanting his target to get away than with whatever his teammates had to say about his little habit. He simply waved it off with a soft smile and leaving before anyone like Spy or Soldier might suggest they actually needed a smoke break too.

Once outside, Sniper noticed how vastly the evening had crept into the streets as darkness had decoloured the sky and the lack of sunshine had taken down the temperature by a serious notch. It was quiet save for the occasional car speeding by and the tranquillity the night had to offer was a nice asset to help the marksman think as he took a brisk look around himself.

The man hadn't gone far yet. Sniper had quickly spotted him calmly walking down the street maybe a few feet away from the bar and after another hand full of seconds, Sniper started following him with that same languid pace in his cadence, shoes audibly clicking against the pavement. 

But his pursuit suddenly took an odd turn as after walking for a mere minute, the man took a sharp turn into an alleyway and disappeared out of sight. The marksman balled his hands into fists, nails digging into his own skin as he forced himself to stay calm, to breathe and to remember which alleyway he'd escaped into.

Considering that his cover had been long lost now, Sniper kicked up his pace and quickly rounded the corner to the alleyway he prayed his target had taken, only to stop dead in his tracks as he came face to face with the man. Sniper's brow shot up as his heart suddenly slammed against his ribcage, very much not having expected that old freak to just _stand_ there, smiling at him like he'd been expecting him. Why wasn't he running away?

"Confused?" He purred with a sneer present on his wrinkled face. "I've been waiting for someone to send a hitman my way for a _long_ time now, I'm not exactly surprised to be perfectly honest."

Sniper shook his head, muttering in response: "Nobody send me."

"Oh?" He quirked an eyebrow up at Sniper, every emotion and gesture so artificial it had Sniper chewing the inside of his cheek to calm himself down. His hands _begged_ to just clock this fucker in the face, but he forced himself to wait.

"I recognized you and happened to overhear a conversation between you and that monster of a friend you have inside. So," Sniper shook his head as a deep snicker escaped him, trying to be just as unsettling as his collocutor. "this won't be an assassination, it'll _just_ be murder."

The older man scoffed, expression suddenly going a whole lot darker, eyes hooded. "Oh what? Heard me talk about kiddie porn and it _startled_ you? Grow the fuck up you lanky son of a bitch, no use being so sensitive over something so... _common_, or do you actually believe I'm the _only_ one around who enjoys things like that?" 

"Care to give me a list?" Sniper replied with bite in his voice and hatred on his mind, not allowing himself to be unsettled by this freak despite the uneasy feeling this conversation was giving him. "I'm so bloody tired of shitheads like you not facing any consequences. You hurt so many people, yet you get to live out an easy life, tell me if that seems fair to you."

The guy scoffed. "Who fucking cares? I already got away with it, why waste your time, huh?"

Every muscle in Sniper's body tensed for a moment, his anger level reaching a point it hadn't reached in a long time. That last comment had just completely tipped Sniper over the edge as his expression turned unreadable now as it darkened even through his glasses and he calmly approached the man, visibly startling him with such a simple motion.

He could watch the guy's confident stance dissolving, noticed how his eyes grew big and desperately sought for a way to escape as Sniper slowly backed him into a wall, getting uncomfortably close.

"_I_ care. And I care _deeply_, mate." Sniper easily towered over this man, this _pathetic_ excuse of a man and even though Sniper knew his appearance had scared off people in his past, it usually wasn't something he liked to be reminded of, but as he stared down his target and watched him shiver in fear, Sniper _wanted_ this fucker to be scared of him.

Sniper grabbed the man by his collar, lifting him ever so slightly into the air before throwing him to the pavement, making the impact that much more powerful. A loud grunt escaped the man as the wind was being completely knocked out of him, Sniper having smacked him so hard into the ground that he _might_ have bruised a rib. Judging by the way he tried to inch away from the marksman, he guessed he'd done _some_ damage, right?

"_Fuck_!" The man cried probably in an attempt to draw attention to the alleyway, but he could try all he wanted. It was far past midnight and given that they were only a minute away from some noisy bar, Sniper wasn't exactly worried about anyone finding them, so he proceeded. 

This time Sniper gathered his collar into one hand, the other balling into a firm fist as he lifted him partially off of the ground and socked him right in the face. The man tried to scramble away, tried to cover his now bloody nose and somewhere in all his struggles, he managed to get a foot between Sniper and himself, putting up quite the fight as he pounded that foot right into Sniper's midriff, having him gasp for air as he stumbled backwards.

But despite this managing to throw him off for a second, Sniper didn't want this mess up to create opportunity for his foe, rather Sniper himself wanted to take this moment to evaluate, to hide, to wait and see, to simply do what he's best at; awaiting the right moment.

And so he watched the man scramble to his feet, watched him wipe away blood on his sleeve and jerkily look around himself, clearly dazed. His breathing was loud and rattling as his chest rose shallowly, back turning towards the particular shadow Sniper had decided to hide in.

Now was his moment to strike and as Sniper gripped onto the knife in his hand, he dashed forward in one quick movement and stabbed it right into his lower back. His hand gripped the man's shoulder and besides hearing his surprised gasp, Sniper _felt_ every muscle in the man's body go rigid. Maybe out of alarm or fright, maybe because of pain, Sniper didn't want to consider it, whatever this fucker was feeling, was completely justified.

He repeated this action a couple of times, blood splatters managing themselves a way onto Sniper's own clothes as well and as eventually the blood drained from this man like the life drained from his eyes, Sniper let go and watched him drop to the ground like a ragdoll.

Sniper looked him over, wiping at his own face and sighing out harshly as something in him _finally_ calmed down, like waking up from some kind of trance he didn't even know he was in. He took a few deliberate breaths as he stood there, suddenly realising that _oh shit this is an awful lot of blood on my clothes_ and_ I can't just stuff the body in some dumpster and call it a day, I have to think of something better_. And despite his experience, despite having done this _so many_ times before, Sniper felt his brow scrunch up in panic, both from the idea that he had no idea what to actually do _and_ from realising that he'd actually gone out of his way to hunt someone down and murder them in cold blood without someone telling him to do so.

This had completely been of his own accord and it felt so strange.

"What the bloody hell happened here?!" The loud and screeching Scottish accent had Sniper's heart leaping up into his throat, eyes widening as he turned around to face his teammate, mind scrambling for an explanation.

"It's uh," Sniper stammered as Demo approached him, the look in the Scot's eye was so utterly bewildered and if Sniper had to guess, it probably wouldn't be awfully far from the look he had in his own eyes.

Demo looked at the corpse laying at their feet, before his gaze returned to the marksman. "I want to believe there is some _good reason_ you went all screwball on this man." Demo reasoned. "Was he part of some contract you haven't finished yet?"

"No, he wasn't." Sniper replied easily, some of that previous determination returning to him as he was reminded that actually yes, there _was_ a good reason for why he'd murdered this man. "But I didn't just kill him, okay? I don't know if you recognize him or not, but this man had been an awfully lot in the press a couple of weeks ago. He was a pedophile." Sniper said bluntly as he gestured a hand towards the dead man. "He escaped punishment during his trial, so-"

"So you took matters into your own hands and decided to stab him to death in some dingy alleyway at two in the morning?" Demo offered with a quirked eyebrow and Sniper could only smile sheepishly in return.

"Don't tell Scout."

Demo sighed out deeply, hands now resting at his hips as he visibly gave himself a minute to think about this. "You know, out of everyone, I never expected to find _you_ in a situation like this. I only came to check on you because it took you bleeding _ages_ to return!"

Sniper could tell Demo was trying to sound exasperated, but there was something there colouring his voice that had Sniper believing that he wasn't entirely opposed to what Sniper had done that night.

"He had it coming, alright? He was charged with _child molestation_ for Christ sake!" Sniper gestured a hand towards the bar. "And he wasn't exactly alone either. His fucked up drinking buddy was just as enthusiastically talking about child pornography. Tell me how that's bloody fair, yeah?"

As those words left the marksman, he could see something in Demo's expression lighting up, brow increasingly rising with mere inches as he listened and eventually Demo would say something that would change everything. 

"He's still in there, you know. Sitting alone at that table."

That one sentence carried a heavy suggestion, one that had a grin pulling at Sniper's lips as the pair made brief eye contact, non - verbally agreeing to something they both found _absolutely_ necessary.

"Is he now?" Sniper asked with feigned surprise in his voice and Demo simply nodded, expression set on something to match the delight on the marksman's face.

That one night had sparked a chain of events that lead them to where they were now, six months later. Sniper couldn't recall how many people had met their maker because of these two, but he could recall how rewarding it felt to him. Maybe sometimes Sniper enjoyed putting a bullet between their eyes or a knife between their ribs a bit _too_ much, but he didn't question it.

It was okay, everything was _okay_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:  
This one is REALLY important, please don't skip over this one because this chapter contains explicit language with hints and references to pedohilia, child abuse and even possible rape, so PLEASE respect this trigger warning and DO NOT proceed if you know it'll affect you badly!

Demo and Sniper had gotten to Demo’s car and onto the road in record time, driving off as if they hadn’t just assassinated a man they didn’t personally know in cold blood. Sniper however could not care a hoot, didn’t give it a second thought even, as everyone Demo and him decided upon as target, he couldn’t consider human whatsoever. Instead all he saw whenever he peered through his scope or lured in the shadows waiting for the right moment, was a monster that didn’t deserve to live, let alone live freely.

The drive home was rather lengthy as they’d driven for a little over an hour to get to where they knew the target was going to be tonight. If people had actually known what they’d been up to, they’d have declared them crazy. Sniper and Demo had a mission however, clearing the world from scumbags one assassination at a time and while they were, as some would say, playing God, the others where under the assumption that Sniper and Demo had simply driven off to some bar to get their drink on.

Tonight had been just one person, but it had happened before that they’d had more than one target for the night, being on the road a lot to track all of them down. A lot of work went into preparations as well as they had to make sure they’d done enough research on their targets and knew where to find them and when to strike.

The drive back didn’t _feel_ long at all as Sniper was too busy recollecting the past. They arrived at the base a little past midnight, having a beer together in Demo’s car before parting ways. After all, they had to smell the part if they wanted to keep their cover up.

As sniper reached his RV, he noticed a faint light creeping between the creaks of the closed curtains. Scout must still be awake, he thought. It was either that or he had fallen asleep while watching tv, which was, in Sniper’s humble opinion, probably one of the cutest sights to come home to.

Quickly checking if he looked like someone who just came from a bar, maybe like he had sobered up in the car a little, instead of looking like he just came from a mission, he opened the door to see a sleepy head perking up from the sofa.

“You’re back!” A very drowsy looking, yet bright smile greeted Sniper as Scout rubbed his eyes with his wrists and let out a little yawn.

“Indeed I am and you fell asleep while watching telly, didn’t you?” A smile appeared on Sniper’s lips as he already knew what Scout’s reaction would be. He wasn’t going to give in, not without trying to fight Sniper’s assumptions first.

“Excuse you, sir. I was wide awake and watching one of my favourite shows, euhm…”

“Roo, those are two tigers fucking. Unless that’s a fetish of yours I don’t know off, I’m pretty sure this wasn’t on the screen when you were actually watching still.” Scout’s nose wrinkled up as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix the shape off the pillow printed in his quiff.

“Maybe I was educating myself, you know. Seeing how things go in the animal world and such.” Scout turned his gaze towards the tv to try and prove a point, tilting his head in the process. “That… does not look consensual… at all.”

“So how long have you been sleeping for?” Sniper now too watched the screen with a tilted head, squinting his eyes at the rather brutal mating shown.

“Half an hour I guess, I was watching a movie and I remember an announcement for this documentary, ‘cause it made me think of you for some reason. I know I didn’t see the end of the movie, because it was the one with the dude who can go back in time by looking at a picture and I know how that one ends, so yeah, about half an hour ago.”

Sniper took place on the sofa next to Scout, putting an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer. Scout immediately nestled himself into Sniper’s chest finding the right spot to rest his head and cuddle up.

“Had a good time? Did you drink a lot? I smell some beer on you.”

“Great time, just getting some quality time in with Demo. I did drink some beers by the way, but I’m not drunk if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Dang it, so you didn’t end up kissing Demo. Must’ve been a hitch, hope you don’t feel too sad?” Scout’s nose wrinkled again as he smiled from ear to ear. It had been an ongoing joke between the two of them that Sniper went drinking with Demo as part of a bigger plan just to seduce him.

“Oh no don’t worry about it. Demo was rather drunk, so I got my kisses after all. I did drop him of in his room a little back though, you know like the gentlemen I am, he really was hammered after all. Had to help him out of his shirt and into bed, he has a good chest.”

“I’d imagine, he looks quite fit to be honest.” Scout snuggled further into Sniper’s chest, a hand resting around his stomach as he pet Sniper’s belly. “more so than you at least.” He looked up, pressing his chin in Sniper a little as he flashed a sly little smile. Sniper took a good look at Scout’s face. His frail nose had a few little freckles on it that made him look extremely cute when he smiled. Sniper knew Scout hated them, they made him look even younger and he really didn’t like that, but Sniper loved them, thought they fit his face perfectly.

As Sniper noticed how Scout tried to repress a yawn, he quickly checked the time to find it had passed 2am already.

“How about we go to bed?”

\--

Sniper opened his eyes to find himself in complete darkness. The atmosphere around him was cold and unsettling and before he knew it he was shivering and trembling. It felt as if somebody had cracked open a window in the middle of a blizzard and taken away his blanket, that’s how biting it was. Desperate to try and fight the freezing air that was surrounding Sniper’s entire body he curled up in a ball, hugging his knees as tightly as possible.

Whispers, out of the nothingness Sniper could hear whispers fade in. They started of soft, so soft even that he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining them, but against the sound of silence, even the softest bit of noise would be noticeable.

The voices grew louder yet their words remained incoherent. Sniper couldn’t tell where they came from as they seemed to fill the entire space around him. As for what this ‘space’ was, he couldn’t tell. It didn’t really feel like he was lying in bed anymore, rather he felt like he was floating in complete darkness, a little like he’d been swallowed up by a black hole and now had to spend eternity in oblivion, nullity, some kind of void that he couldn’t get himself out of.

At once the voices shifted to screaming at the top of their lungs, just incomprehensive, unsettling shrieks and cries for attention with not a receiver around to react to them. Distressed, that’s how the voices could have been described and to Sniper’s best knowledge, not one of them seemed to sound like somebody he knew. He wasn’t exactly sure whether that was a relieve or made him feel even more uneasy.

Sniper tried as hard as he could to block out the uproar surrounding him, pressing his palms on his ears until he could feel the pressure starting to hurt a little. His knees where piercing his chest nearly as he tried to make himself as small as possible, hoping that would help him put an end to the uninterrupted screeches and squeals.

The volume kept increasing, growing louder and louder until Sniper was sure he couldn’t bear it any longer and at that exact point every last bit of sound was sucked out of the air in a seconds notice. Once again everything was dead silent, so much so that Sniper felt his ears ringing from the pressure the empty air put on them.

“Come on now, it’s not like you have anything I haven’t seen yet, right. It’ll be our little game, okay? Our little secret.”

Sniper could feel his stomach turn, chills running down his spine making his already strongly cooled down body freeze up even more. He feared he was going to be sick, simply by hearing that one voice that he did recognize, that one voice that he hoped he would never have to hear ever again.

“You’re not going to be a bad little boy now, are you? When an adult tells you to do something you’re supposed to listen. You wouldn’t want to disappoint your sweet mum now, would you? She wouldn’t want you to be disrespectful after all.”

Sniper banged his right palm against his temple, two, three, four times, but the voice wouldn’t stop pestering him.

“It’s just some pictures. You take pictures with your friends too, don’t you? With your parents? Even the school takes pictures of you, so why would it be any different now? Don’t worry. You’ll look good in them. I promise.”

“Stop it! Go away! Leave me alone! Disappear! Get out of my head, I know you’re not real, you’re not around anymore!” Rapidly breathing, Sniper was no longer lying down. He was sitting on an invisible surface, trying to face the direction he thought the voice was coming from, only to hear it come from the opposite direction seconds later.

“Mick… Mickey… You know I would never do anything to hurt you. You’re special after all, I like you the most.”

Whispers started to fade in again, filling in the dead air in the background. It gave the impression like Sniper was located in a crowded area, somewhere where a lot of noise was a common thing. This time however, the whispers where understandable, as if the voices where more clear.

A lot of gasps and outraged sounds where audible. People where sharing how sad they were, how pained by this sudden occurrence. “Oh that poor man, luckily he didn’t have to suffer. It happened in a jiffy”

Those last words were so strong, so painfully present in Sniper’s ears that they smacked the air out of his lungs, making him gasp and desperately try to fill them back up with oxygen. Fighting the feeling of suffocation by taking long, deep breaths, he couldn’t repress the tears from forming in his eyes.

“I’ve been feeling a little down as of lately. Won’t you help me feel better. Nobody but you could help me. You’re so cute. You’re such a sweet little boy.”

“Shut up! SHUT UP!” The tears had no business staying inside Sniper’s eyes any longer, rolling over his cheeks in thick streaks. He couldn’t stop them, they were pouring out like heavy rain.

“It won’t hurt, I promise, just stay still and keep quiet. It will be over before you know it.”

Two pale blue eyes appeared in the darkness, right in front of Sniper. He recognized them all too well. They were eyes he had been forced to see so often in so many unsettling situations. Situations which still made him feel like vomiting, just by recalling them. They’d been eyes he’d been scared off, eyes he had hated. Eyes of which he’d wished to see the lights dim slowly and painfully. Eyes he’d resented for not having to suffer while closing for the last time, never to open again.

These eyes pierced their gaze into Sniper’s skin, looking him over from head to toe, only they weren’t looking at him exactly, they were gazing upon his younger self, eight, maybe nine summers young.

“You’re so pretty… too pretty even. How could someone ever blame me for not being able to resist you? That just seems unfear, doesn’t it.”

\--

Sniper jerked awake to find himself bathing in sweat. Rubbing the back of his hand over his forehead, he tried as hard as he could to get that dream of off his mind. It wasn’t exactly the first time that dream occurred, Sniper even knew during his dream that it was just that, however that didn’t reduce the impact of it. Thinking about it, he had dreams like this one a lot when he was a teenager and even in his early twenties they still popped up from time to time, but they’d died down bit by bit the older Sniper became.

Now however, he seemed to have dreams like this almost every week. Ever since he’d killed that first guy, this dream or a variant of it had reintroduced itself into Sniper’s life with the speed of light.

Only now that he was fully awake, Sniper realised Scout’s side of the bed was empty. Feeling the temperature of the mattress next to him, it seemed like Scout had been gone for a while now. As he rubbed his eyes, sitting up straight in bed, he could hear a happy voice great him.

“Good morning!”

Scout was standing in the little kitchen area, smiling as he waved for Sniper to get out of bed and come over.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” The sound of his own voice surprised Sniper as it sounded raspy and a bit damaged.

“Well, I figured you could use the sleep, since you were out last night. I didn’t want to wake you, so I made pancakes instead.”

Sniper walked up to Scout, cuddling him from behind as he took a big bite from a plate of pancakes Scout offered him.

“You were very active in your sleep last night, constantly tossing and turning. You seem to be doing that a lot as of lately. Where you having a bad dream? Are you feeling okay?” Sniper placed a quick little peck on Scout’s cheek as he grinned.

“Nothing to worry about, it was hot in bed is all. By the way thank you for the pancakes, Roo. They’re really good.”

Scout couldn’t help but smile at that little complement, seemingly forgetting to continue being worried about his boyfriend, which Sniper didn’t mind at all. He grabbed a plate of pancakes and sat down on the sofa, eating them while watching some TV. The pancakes really were very tasty, he could tell Scout had put a lot of afford in them.

With scout settling next to him, the dream from that night started to disappear to the back of Sniper’s head.

He was okay, _everything was okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi There, I'm YRwrites and I had to write the second chapter after Snoezibol started our little project. The next chapter wil be by Snoezibol again, and the one after that'll be me and so on and so on. Basically I'm in charge of the even numbers and Snoe has the odd ones.   
Thanks so much for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay alright, so this chapter will definately need some warnings so please respect them!   
There are a couple moments where a suicide attempt gets implied and there's - similar to the previous chapter - dialogue that's more than a little disturbing that heavily references child abuse. Next to that there's a rather graphic fight scene and a blood mention.  
I know it's a lot, so please check with yourself first before continuing to read this chapter!!

The nightmare had left a bigger imprint on Sniper than he had expected, or better, wanted to believe. Despite the images and general unsettlement having faded to the back of his mind after waking up and sitting down to have a relaxing breakfast with Scout, as the day progressed and battle had started, his mind had started to wander and everything just came back to him with the same force as a bat swinging at his head. After years of dreaming those same dreams, Sniper had become somewhat numb to them. Like sensibility training, the impact of having to relive all that crap slightly wore off the older he became and the farter all that was behind him.

But ever since he killed that first guy, Sniper felt as if his past was catching up to him and it was frustratingly distracting. These memories, _nightmares_, weren’t exactly things Sniper cared to remember. It wasn’t anything worth reminiscing, all he had to do was turn a blind eye and move on, run away, get up and brush himself off, get away unscathed or at least tell himself he was able to do that. Ignorance is bliss and that’s something Sniper swore by.

His life was _good_ now, he didn’t dare mess that up by throwing a rock in this glass house. It would just ruin everything.

And so far battle wasn’t exactly interesting either, making Sniper’s attempts of shifting his focus onto something different futile. Like a boomerang, these unsettling thoughts came right back around to violently smash themselves a way inside Sniper’s skull and any desire for some concentration and the usual headspace he managed to achieve during work were fleeting him like mice on a sinking ship.

It simply was no use and Sniper was painstakingly aware of that, but he was also a stubborn man when he needed to be and despite how heavy this subject was making him feel, he tried to push it away, like every other feeling he’s ever had about this subject before.

It was a sink or swim kind of situation and to Sniper that wasn’t a hard decision to make. He’d sunken down before and that was something he never _ever_ wanted to life through again. So no matter how much it asked of him, Sniper would continue to swim.

_Pull the trigger, pull the trigger, you fucking coward, pull the trigger! _

Sniper faintly shook his head as he peered down the battlefield for any action he could find. Staring into the empty air before himself was driving him nuts, thoughts slowly eating away at him from the inside out. He could really use the distraction.

_Pull the trigger, it’ll hurt so much less than everything else I’ve been through. _

He could feel his hands slightly shaking where they were gripping onto his rifle, the rise and fall of his chest unknowingly quickening with each breath he took.

_It’s so unfair. It’s not worth it. I’m tired. I don’t want to do this anymore. _

He was entirely losing his focus now, head hurting all of a sudden as he clenched his jaw tightly.

_Everything hurts. I want it to stop._

Thoughts and memories were merging together, creating this unbearable loudness inside Sniper’s head. Every muscle inside his body was tense, adrenaline coursing through him like a storm and creating this catastrophic madness Sniper just _couldn’t handle_.

It’d been so long since he felt like this. Sniper was bordering on a panic attack with nothing but the engraved and rotten memories playing over and over and over inside his head. Everything was just screaming at him and within that chaos of sound, Sniper found he was also screaming at himself.

But if Sniper had to be honest, he’d _gladly_ take this maddening chaos than that toxic voice, that manipulative tone that had been ringing in his head ever since he was seven. A certain sound he’d never quite managed to outrun. A voice so familiar to him, it never failed to make his skin crawl.

“_Mick… Mickey…_”

The memory had Sniper closing his eyes, inwardly cringing at the images flooding his mind. It had his stomach turning, eyebrows twitching, it made him feel sick.

“_You’ll always be my good little boy, right Pumpkin?_”

His rifle hitting the wooden floor created an obnoxious noise as it slipped out of his shaking hands, having to steady himself now by gripping onto the windowsill and trying to sort out his breathing.

Deep breaths. In and out.

“_You wouldn’t want this to end, right? Don’t you know how sad that would make me? You don’t want me to be sad, do you?_”

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, a painful sensation travelling all throughout his lanky form.

“_You wouldn’t want to be disobedient. Your parents taught you better than that, didn’t they?_” 

In and out. _In and out_ until he couldn’t stand it any longer.._._

“_It’ll just be our little secret, right Pumpkin?_”

And until he met his breaking point.

“SHUT UP!” He yelled at the top of his lunges when he couldn’t bear it any longer, the panic levels inside his body peaking as he felt a hand gripping onto his shoulder, yet quickly letting go when Sniper burst out like that.

And it wasn’t until the marksman turned himself around and stood face to face with the BLU Spy, that he realised that his panic attack wasn’t bleeding into reality, wasn’t making him feel and see things that weren’t there. This rat had caught him at an extremely vulnerably situation and if it wasn’t for Sniper acting so damn odd, Spy would’ve gotten his easy kill.

The speed in which Sniper launched himself at the intruder surely proved to be an asset as Spy clearly hadn’t expected that move, resulting in him being unable to defend himself as Sniper socked him right across the face.

“Don’t _bloody_ touch me.” He growled in warning, completely shaken up by the traumatic journey he’d just went through and the last thing he wanted to have to deal with right now was that rotten BLU Spy.

The impact of Sniper’s punch had Spy stumbling backwards. He wiped his face as he slightly massaged at his jaw yet he didn’t speak up, he was only slyly grinning back at him, knife tightly clutched in his fist and Sniper just wanted nothing more than to wipe that _fucking_ look off of his stupid fucking face.

But that tense little stare down didn’t last long as this time Spy took a mean lunge forward and nearly managed to land a nasty cut in Sniper’s face. As response, Sniper grabbed at the Frenchman’s wrist and twisted it the other way around, meanwhile his foot kicking out at Spy’s knee to get him on the ground. But it was clear that Spy’s focus had returned to him all the same as he blocked the marksman’s oncoming kick and kicked _him_ in the stomach instead, sending him backwards and nearly crashing into the wooden wall behind him.

Though Sniper managed to recover quickly, swiftly reaching for his kukri as Spy was advancing on him once more. He dodged Spy’s knife, ducking away and regaining his footing quickly, ready to bury his kukri into Spy’s backside and get this over with.

Yet as he watched Spy realising his mistake and wanting to turn around to get out of that vulnerable position, two distinctive and clear clicking sounds could be heard right outside of Sniper’s nest, making that indistinguishable noise behind the closed wooden door that sealed the building.

Both Sniper and the BLU Spy were entirely taken aback by it. Confusion was visible on their faces when, suddenly, Sniper’s eyes grew in realisation, eyebrows shooting up. It was too late however, because when Sniper’s mind finally realised that those clicks had indicated that two of Demo’s grenades had found themselves a way to Sniper’s nest _and_ that they were about to go off, the explosion had already started. It destroyed a big part of the nest and ripped the door from its hinges, sending wooden pieces and dangerous debris flying everywhere.

The explosion had been ear numbingly loud and as Sniper went to cover his ears he watched a big piece of wood crash into the BLU Spy, killing him instantly. He couldn’t help but smile at the spook’s demise, it’s what he very well deserved, yet as Sniper turned himself to try and get some cover, excruciating pain suddenly travelled throughout his body as he felt a piece of metal lodging into his throat.

He grabbed at his throat as he felt he could no longer breathe properly. His eyes were big from shock, yet the adrenaline inside his body peaked as he stumbled backwards and stumbled awkwardly around. He didn’t know what to do. What _was_ he supposed to do? Medically, there was little in Sniper’s knowledge that could help him survive this mess. He could already feel thick, warm blood staining his hands and his vision blurred heavier with every heave of air he desperately tried to take.

It hurt _so_ bad. Sniper knew there was no way he’d survive this and a visit through respawn would be his only option.

So Sniper scrambled together his last few braincells capable of cognitive thought as he looked around himself in search for the BLU Spy’s corpse. He stumbled towards it, teeth gnashing together in both pain and focus to stay standing and not fall onto the floor and just bleed to death.

That would be unbearable.

With a shaking, blood covered hand, Sniper grabbed the BLU Spy’s revolver and held it to his head. He felt a nauseating familiarity from the moment the cold barrel touched his skull, a violent chill running up his spine and making him relive so many things.

But he pushed through, the open wound in his throat being just as unbearable and as Sniper managed to take one steadying breath, he finally pulled the trigger.

\--

After Sniper had abruptly awoken back at respawn, the match had already ended for that day and most of his teammates had already set out to go enjoy their evening away from battle.

And – in a futile attempt to forget everything that had happened to him that afternoon – Sniper decided to do the same.

He sauntered lifelessly towards his RV, every muscle inside his body was aching and his throat felt extremely sore, despite the fact that there was no visible scar left behind by that accident.

That _stupid_ accident.

Sniper had no idea what had happened to Demo for two of his grenades to end up at his nest – in _all_ places for fuck sake – but he also knew he couldn’t exactly be mad. It’d been exactly what it was, an _accident_ and if it hadn’t been for those grenades blowing half his cover away and murdering both him and the BLU Spy, Sniper might have actually gone insane.

He shook his head, as if denying or dismissing his mind’s intentions to dwell any further. That wasn’t what he wanted right now and it surely wasn’t anything to help him along either. All Sniper really desired right at that moment was a steaming cup of coffee and either a soft couch or bed, it didn’t really matter.

But as Sniper eventually entered his RV, a little note laying a top his kitchen counter was quick to snatch his attention. It was a short and sloppily thing, yet something brightened within Sniper. Scout had simply let him know that he’d be at the base if he needed him, because Engineer had asked him a favour, but something as simple as that already did wonders lifting Sniper’s heavy mood. If there was one thing capable to clear away some of the fog inside his head, than it was spending time with Scout.

Now Sniper didn’t exactly know how long it had taken for respawn to spit him back out, but judging from the dead atmosphere hogging the base, it’d taken quite the while.

The hallways were empty, there was no music playing or some nice piano or violin music pleasantly echoing through the building, in fact the only noise Sniper picked up was the muffled sound of his shoes hitting the carpeted floor and the ever so familiar melody of Engineer scurrying around in the kitchen.

Sniper continued his walk towards Scout’s room, quickly waving at Engineer in greeting as he passed the opened kitchen door. The sight of the Texan busily going around checking something as if he were in the heat of battle tending to his sentries was so comically interrupted by the bright smile he directed at Sniper, that the marksman just couldn’t help but snicker.

Engineer is just_ such_ a wonderful human being. 

“Snipes!” Sniper turned himself around at the sound of that familiar Bostonian accent, softly smiling at the sight of Scout enthusiastically coming out his way with his hair still wet from taking a shower. “I’m glad you came! I’ve got a surprise for you, man!”

“A surprise?” Sniper asked, bending down a little to give the runner a peck on the lips.

Scout simply nodded, that crooked smile perfectly showing of his buckteeth. “Yeah! I mean, it’s nothing special, but Demo’s told me all about his two discarded grenades blowing up half your nest, so I thought you could use some sheering up.”

“I had no idea Demo was even aware of that happening.” Sniper spoke with mild sarcasm in his voice, arm looping around Scout’s shoulder as the pair walked towards the runner’s room.

“He feels real bad about it.” Scout confessed. “Apparently he’d gotten in a tough fight with the BLU Pyro who just happened to air blast those two grenades towards your nest. Demo wanted to explain that bit to you himself, but I think he fell asleep a little bit ago.” The runner shrugged, looking back at Sniper with a touch of worry in his expression. “Did you get hurt bad in the explosion? Seemed like respawn took a while to bring you back.”

With one simple hand gesture, Sniper dismissed the question. He didn’t want Demo to feel bad about this little mishap, because Sniper knew he was partly to blame. He hadn’t been focused, hadn’t been paying enough attention. So lost in thought, if those grenades hadn’t killed him, the BLU Spy eventually would’ve.

“It was okay.” Sniper lied. “The explosion happened to kill the BLU Spy who I didn’t even know was hiding in there, so that was good.”

“And how much damage did it to you?”

Sniper hesitated for a good second, before deciding there wasn’t really harm in telling Scout what had happened to him.

“There was uh, a piece of metal that got stuck in my throat when the explosion happened. The door got ripped from its hinges and I guess one of those got shot right at me.” He looked back at Scout with a soft smile, but all that greeted him back was an expression of true horror shaping on the runner’s face.

“Oh my God,” Scout whispered partly to himself and partly to Sniper and he just couldn’t contain the grin curling the corners of his lips as he watched Scout cringe at the thought alone. He pouted at the marksman, petting his cheek and kissing the other one in apology. “Now I’m really glad I’ve got a little surprise for you, your day’s been shit!”

Sniper was aware that Scout meant the accident, but the truth in that sentence ran far deeper than what Scout could _ever_ fathom or than what Sniper ever _wanted_ him to fathom.

“I do wonder about that surprise though, love.” Sniper spoke playfully, wanting to entirely focus on the more pleasant side of the conversation. “You’ve got me curious.”

“Oh yeah?” Scout all but beamed as he opened the door to his room. Now Scout had mentioned that it wasn’t anything special, but whatever it would be, it meant that Scout had thought about him and that was already more than enough for Sniper.

And soon Scout presented a glass bowl with pieces of apple covered in sugar and cinnamon to Sniper, two forks clutched in his right hand. “Engie had asked me to help him prepare apple turnovers after battle and I know how much you’re fan of these, so once we were done I managed to snatch the leftovers with me!”

The gesture was so sweet and thoughtful it had Sniper just standing there in awe for a good second. Scout was right on the money with that one, because as much as Sniper liked apple turnovers, this simple little dish that was nothing more than preparation for the real deal, was what _actually_ made it good.

“Oh love, that’s amazing!” Sniper said enthusiastically, a sudden thought arriving in his head. “But why do I have the feeling Engie has no idea you took that bowl with you?”

Scout’s nose wrinkled as he smiled mischievously, winking at Sniper as he set down the bowl and handed him a fork. “Hey, Engie doesn’t need to know.” The runner fired back playfully, the atmosphere light and nothing but smiles as they both gingerly dug in, but everything would turn on him quickly as Sniper could’ve never been prepared for Scout’s next words. It succeeding in Sniper’s heart seizing to beat and making him feel terrible once again. 

Scout swallowed down his mouthful, before smiling brightly again and seemingly innocently adding. “It’ll just be our little secret, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight so, I hope - despite the heavy theme of this chapter - that y'all still enjoyed this chapter! I've put a lot of effort and work into it, so I'm already just glad that it's out there and I don't have to worry about it anymore lmao. YRwrites, good luck continuing and I'm also very sorry pfpfpf
> 
> Hope y'all have a good day/night!  
\- Snoezibol


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
This chapter contains graphic language/cursing, implied/referenced child abuse/molestation and an implied/referenced suicide attempt

“What did you just say?” The dead air between Sniper and Scout felt cold and unsettling. He could feel an uncomfortable chill crawl underneath his skin, a weirdly familiar feeling as if someone was running their cold hands over his bare skin underneath his shirt. The sound of Scout’s voice had faded away in Sniper’s head, making place for an unnervingly well-known voice.

_It’ll just be our little secret, right? Just our little secret… our little secret, right? Right, Pumpkin?_

“What the fuck did you just say?!” Sniper’s eyes showed both fright and hatred. His vision had turned blurry and the room around him was shaky and confusing. Blinking a few times he suddenly realised he was grabbing Scout by his collar, holding him in a hostile grab against the wall.

“Hey hey, what’s wrong? What did I saw? What’s going on?”

In a sudden realisation of the scene happening before him, a scene he didn’t even register he was taking part in until it was too late, Sniper relaxed his hand, releasing his grip and fled the room in a second’s notice.

\--

Sniper had never been big on running, yet as of lately he seemed to be running away from his thoughts and actions an awful lot. As his feet finally came to a standstill Sniper noticed his legs had carried him further than he’d ever expected to be able to run in one go.

His breathing was heavy. As Sniper tried to catch his breath and collect his thoughts, he could feel his entire body shaking, both from the unsettling voice he just couldn’t seem to get out of his system and the vision of pure confusion and poorly hidden fear that painted Scout’s face moments ago.

He’d actually grabbed him, he’d pinned him against the wall in a fit of… rage? Sniper didn’t even know, nor did he notice doing anything at all as a matter of fact, but he did know one thing. He was going to have to make up a very strong story to be able to talk himself out of this one. Even though he himself wouldn’t be too quick to say so, Scout wasn’t an idiot. Questions were going to come and Sniper wasn’t sure whether he was going to be able to deal with them.

One sentence, one fucking sentence was enough to mess with Sniper’s brain so badly that apparently all he could see was red before his eyes. It was bad enough already that this bastard had died without having to deal with any of the consequences whatsoever, without Sniper being able to take revenge in any way possible, without anyone knowing his true nature. Anyone but Sniper. That was bad enough by itself already, so why did he have to keep haunting Sniper’s thoughts? Why did he have to keep dictating his life like this? For a while Sniper thought that it had finally stopped; the nightmares, the flashes of memories; that they’d finally died down, had faded out. Well those little years of piece he’d seemingly had, were coming back to bite him in the ass, and they were biting for blood.

_“Don’t worry about it, brother. I’ll look after Mickey, you and Bonnie go have fun tonight. You deserve it.”_

A memory from somewhere in the beginning, one that had been buried rather deep into his mind. He’d been able to suppress this one ever since it had occurred, up until… now apparently. The fright he’d felt all night all those years ago, had all clumped together into one big slap in the face. An acute feeling of nausea felt like a kick in the stomach as Sniper fell to his knees, trying yet failing to regain composure.

Sniper remembered unease during the entire evening, up until he’d finally fallen asleep after over an hour of tossing and turning, only to be awoken in the middle of the night by who he’d wished to have been his parents.

If he’d only been that lucky.

His mind was completely tiring Sniper out, so much so that he began to think back to today’s battle. Placing a revolver on his temple didn’t seem half bad right now if he had to be completely honest, anything to force himself to think about the here and now, instead of the past. He wasn’t completely sure whether it would keep him in the present however, since it didn’t exactly do that earlier today either, but as of right now he felt like it would be worth the try.

There was one major difference to keep in mind however. Even though Sniper was in fact standing on the battlefield, his legs had automatically carried him to this place, a battle there was not. At least not against anyone other than Sniper’s very own mind and memories, which meant there wouldn’t be any respawn to catch him from falling into the black abyss that was death. No safety blanket, no net to break his fall.

Would that really be so bad?

\--

“What the hell just happened?” Scout whispered to himself. His words, though soft and silent, filled the empty room. He felt himself slowly calming down a little bit as he took a deep breath and looked around the room. Pieces of sugar and cinnamon coated apple were scattered over the carpeted floor, forks and bowl included.

Scout still couldn’t grasp what had caused for Sniper to act out like this. Hard as he tried to think, search his mind for a reason, for a moment where he said something so wrong that Sniper completely flipped his shit and ran out, but nothing.

Then again he could search his mind all he wanted, but really thinking about it, he didn’t really know a lot about Sniper, about his own boyfriend. Granted they were both mercenaries who had to keep their identity a secret… for the most part, but Scout realised very well that Sniper nearly never told him what was going on in his head. It was always Scout who talked about his days, his thoughts, his family sometimes even, never Sniper.

Scout sat down on his bed for a second, looking at the self-inflicted mess around him. He’d put the bowl on his bed and sat down beside it, so when Sniper suddenly raised his voice, which had taken Scout by surprise, his reflective response was to get off of the bed, knocking down the bowl and forks in the process. He decided the best idea to deal with this heap of apple was to throw away the apple in the bin in his room and bring the bowl and forks to the kitchen to clean them up. If Engineer was still in the kitchen and Scout would be bringing in a bowl still filled to the brim, there would definitely be questions, not that scout was certain there weren’t going to be any questions already. If Engineer was still in the kitchen making apple turnovers, the odds where he was, he must’ve seen Sniper walk out in a hurry, which made Scout dread going in there and having to explain something he couldn’t explain.

\--

“Sniper seemed to be in a hurry.” The Texan hadn’t even shifted his gaze from the little window in the oven yet, but somehow he knew it was Scout who’d set foot inside the kitchen.

“Yea-Yeah, he forgot to do… something, euhm, something that had to do with the euhm, the battle today, so like something with his rifle I guess, so he had to go and… fix… that.” Engie wasn’t even looking at Scout nor saying anything, but for some reason he felt like he was being lectured by a parent.

“That so?” That hint of knowledge shining true those two little words and the clear doubt about the runner actually speaking the truth, made Scout want to dodge the conversation and get out of the kitchen even more. He wasn’t going to leave the bowl in the sink and just get out, that would simply be disrespectful towards Engie, who’d been slaving away in the kitchen for more than an hour already just to make everybody a nice little dessert for after dinner.

Scout quickly filled the sink with water and soap and dropped the bowl in it like a little child would, pushing it in with one hand in the bowl, trying to keep the inside clear of water for as long as possible so that when the limit’s about to be reached and the brim of the bowl’s perfectly aligned with the surface of the water, it would slowly seep in at first, then fill the bowl quicker and quicker, making it sink only in a matter of seconds. Scout had a habit of putting too much soap in when doing the dishes, so when the bowl was completely sunken in, little bubbles of soap popped up from the sink, floating around the air and popping against his nose and cheeks.

“You seem to be in a hurry too. Need to be somewhere?” Being mesmerised by the sight of the bubbles soothingly dancing around without a single worry in the world, Scout had forgotten for just a second that he was feeling uneasy, that Engineer somehow sounded like he was onto him, or something like that, which made Scout’s mind go into overdrive. The only reason he was having this rather tense conversation with Engie had been Sniper acting very out of character, bursting out in only a second. Scout had tried to replay the moment before Sniper’s outburst in his head more than once now, but he simply couldn’t find any explanation. Sniper had seemed so glad right before and suddenly he just snapped. He recollected Sniper’s words, his own words, the atmosphere around them, but he simply couldn’t make any sense out of the situation.

“Nope, no place to be, just cleaning up my mess. I might take a nap later, but I’m not sure about that one yet.” A little smile colouring Scout’s lips was supposed to convince Engie to back out of the conversation and let Scout leave as soon as he was done.

“Well if you’re not busy could you maybe help me out a little? The turnovers are about done and I could use some help finishing them off with powdered sugar and cleaning everything up. If you don’t mind that is of course.” The soft smile the Texan gave Scout was like a punch in the gut, a punch of friendliness playing with Scout’s conscience making him agree to help nearly immediately after Engie had asked.

“Great, thanks a lot, son!”

As Scout was coating the apple turnovers with powdered sugar, he noticed the Texan was preparing himself to say something. Engie kept repeating a cycle of movements over and over, indicating him wanting to start a conversation, but not really knowing how. He kept glancing over at Scout, looking with a slight hint of sorrow in his eyes like a parent looking at their child who’s having a hard time. Next he’d clear his throat a slight bit, by coughing once at a volume so soft it wouldn’t even be noticeable if more people had been in the kitchen. Engie would make a full body turn towards Scout, a bit of air escaping his vocal cords to indicate words forming, and that’s where he would stop every time to turn back to the turnovers and repeat the cycle.

Normally when noticing somebody behaving like they want to talk, the other person would take over the wheel and start the engine to drive them to conversation lane, but Scout didn’t want to talk. Not only because he was embarrassed talking about his relationship in this kind of way, a vulnerable and delicate track, but also because he wouldn’t know what he’d be explaining. ‘Yeah, my boyfriend just flipped his shit, yelled at me, grabbed me by my collar and pushed me against a wall and I don’t have a single clue why’ wasn’t going to be a great way of stating the facts. It would only make Sniper sound insane, like he’s a lunatic and that’s definitely not what Scout had seen in his eyes. What he did see was a lot of pain and fright, the type of look Scout would imagine on someone who’d already been close to death once. However the look in his eyes also displayed a form of anger, one that grew from disgust or unease maybe. If only Sniper would have stayed to talk, explain what had happened, what had caused for him to not be in the present for a second and… move on impulse?

“Scout, you know that I’m always here for you, right?

“Huh?” The sound had escaped Scout’s lips in a matter of seconds, that’s how out of the blue that sentence came to him. Quickly turning away from the dishes he was cleaning, Scout looked Engie straight in the eyes only to get a piercing stare back. Engie’s eyes looked soft and friendly yet not like they were willing to break contact first. He kept on staring at Scout as he continued to talk.

“I’m there for all of you, you lot are like family to me, so if one of you is feeling off, or two of you are having words, I just want to let you know that you can talk to me, or even count on me to sheer you up a bit. I guess what I really want to say is, it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me if something would be going on or if something is on your mind, but please do rely on me as a safe haven, as someone who’s not going to judge you or the situation, because I just want us all to be happy. Take for example Spy. I don’t even know half of what’s on his mind from time to time and he’s not really one to talk much about problems or issues, but when the time’s there he does rely on me to make him smile again when he’s been feeling down. I don’t need to know the full story, I don’t need any details if there is a fight or if you’re feeling down. All I need to know is that you can come back from it and be happy again, okay?”

Engie was still staring at Scout who’d shifted his gaze to the ground. This heartfelt monologue was something the runner definitely hadn’t expected to get right now, but it did make him feel better, at least a little bit. He knew he could always count on Engie, hell he even relied on him more than he would on his own dad. Engie was like the dad of the entire team, well not the entire team but at least the younger ones of the team. To people like Medic and Heavy, Engie was more like a brother Scout would assume, they had a different way of associating with one another, but they were also guilty of relying on him more than once already. The relationship between Engie and Spy was… well let’s say they were very friendly with one another, in fact Engie was one of the only people, if not _the_ only person, Spy was actually friendly with in a close way.

“Well would you look at that, we’re all done here. Thank you for your help, son.” The Texan dropped the towel he’d used to dry off the dishes over the grip of a cupboard so it could airdry, moving towards the door next to leave the kitchen.

“Engie… thank you.”

A soft smile appeared on the Texan’s lips. He nodded his head slowly as some sort of ‘no problem’ gesture, before turning around and actually leaving the kitchen.

\--

The sinking sun coloured the sky in a bunch of different shades of gold and pink, visualising the passing of time and the day slowly transitioning into the evening. The slowly cooling air felt very satisfying on Sniper’s skin. He’d taken his time to calm down and prepare himself for the moment that had to come now. He had to face Scout again after his outburst earlier. Weirdly enough he wasn’t all too stressed about facing him. All he wanted to do right now was to make sure that the look of fear and confusion Scout’d had would completely disappear and, preferably, never come back. Obviously he didn’t mean to scare Scout, he didn’t mean to do anything that could possible hurt the young runner. He didn’t mean to raise his voice and he certainly didn’t mean to grab Scout and pin him against a wall, it had scared Sniper himself when he realised he’d done so.

While overthinking once again what had happened earlier, feeling bad or rather guilty about the way he just lost it and worked out his issues on Scout, Sniper had walked inside the base towards the hallway that held Scout’s bedroom, to find the runner standing at the end, arms crossed over his chest and a neutral stare in his eyes.

“We’re going to talk now.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

Sniper followed Scout into his room, closing the door behind him as to keep their conversation at least a little bit private from the others. The first thing he noticed when Sniper had closed the door and stood inside the room was that Scout’s eyes didn’t seem to have even the slightest hint of fear inside of them anymore, which caused for a soft little smile to appear on his lips. He had to quickly repress it though, since he understood very well how that smile wasn’t really appropriate in their current situation. He also noticed that even though Scout was trying very hard to sound stern and angry just a second ago, his body language read worried rather than mad or upset. Whether that was supposed to be a relieve or not, Sniper wasn’t sure of.

“I guess I have some explaining to do…” Sniper’s eyes immediately sought out the floor as soon as he started talking, a feeling of guilt warming up his entire body as if he was getting ill. As calm as he’d felt right before seeing Scout, as nervous and uneasy he felt right now. His throat turned dry and he couldn’t seem to get his voice on the right volume, mumbling under his breath.

Scout simply gave a little nod, telling Sniper as much as ‘go on’.

“So you know how today’s battle was rather… difficult on me. So when we were sitting here earlier I was very tired and probably also still a bit out of it from respawn, because it had taken very long and you know how I don’t really react all too well on respawn anyway.” Sniper left a little pause after that sentence to see if he would get any reaction out of Scout, but the latter simply nodded in agreement to Sniper’s factual statement, face still in the same neutral expression.

“So when we sat here earlier I was suddenly… reminded or like more taken back to the situation at the battlefield today, my mind was playing a mean game with me.” An uneasy chuckle accompanied that last part as Sniper lifted his eyes back up to meet Scout’s deep blues, staring at them for a little while as he tried to make out which colours were mashed together to make his irises the colour they were.

“Okay, so what was it exactly that you were reminded of? And you better tell me every little detail of what was going on in your head, because that is an explanation I deserve.” Scout was still very much trying his best to sound stern, but all Sniper could make out of it was that Scout just really wanted to understand him.

“You’re right. Well, you know how the BLU Spy was in my nest, right? I hadn’t seen him, didn’t have a clue about his whereabouts, guess I wasn’t really very aware of my surroundings. So suddenly that bastard was on my back, because I heard that disgusting snickering, snorting laugh of his, the one he always let’s out when he successfully sneaks up on me. So I just thought fuck, he’s got me, but than he started getting cocky, bragging about how good he was and how much of a fuck up I was and how often he’d been able to get me. That just annoyed me a little bit, you know, but at that point all I was really trying to do was to see if I could somehow turn that situation around, so that I could still beat him. And then that sick fuck started talking about how he enjoyed the look in people’s eyes the moment he stabs them in the back and they realise that they’re going to die. Taking it even further by saying that sometimes he enjoys watching them die, just so he could see the light fade out in their eyes. By that point I was more than just a little disturbed and he was really getting on my nerves too, so I was already starting to get worked up real bad. So suddenly he looks me straight in the eye and says that he enjoyed it the most when it… was… you. I know he just said it to agitate me, but it got me so pissed and then he finished it off with ‘but that’ll just be our little secret’ and it was at that point demo’s bombs went off.”

A silence fell as Sniper examined Scout’s face and body language. He wasn’t sure if his story was convincing enough, but seeing Scout’s expression turn from the forced neutral look he’d been able to uphold this entire time to a slightly sad and sympathetic look, he guessed it was going pretty smoothly.

“Snipes…”

“I guess my tired brain just hallucinated the scene in front of my eyes when you talked about keeping the bowl of apples a secret from Engie… I’m so sorry, Roo. I was so mad at the BLU Spy at that moment, I got angry and I wanted to inflict pain on him. My brain didn’t want to realise that you weren’t him and I wasn’t in the nest until I’d… I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Actual tears were starting to form in Sniper’s eyes. He couldn’t handle the idea of possible hurting Scout and it made him feel so guilty and so extremely bad that he actually felt a slight headache developing at his left temple.

“Snipes, of course you didn’t. I was startled and I didn’t understand what had happened, but you didn’t hurt me at all.” Scout walked up to his boyfriend, pulling him closer so he could nuzzle himself in a tight embrace.

“I’m so glad you told me what was on your mind. I want you to realise that you can rely on me whenever somethings up, okay? I love you.”

Sniper wrapped his arms tightly around the smaller man, wanting to stay like this for as long as he possible could.

“I love you too, Roo. And I’m really, _really _sorry.”

As scout was getting comfortable in the embrace, he couldn’t help but somehow have an odd feeling about Sniper’s entire explanation. It’s true that Sniper raising his voice was very out of character and that the situation earlier wasn’t something that had ever happened before, but it’s not so that this was the first time Scout felt like Sniper was being odd. He wasn’t sleeping very comfortable lately, but whenever Scout asked about it, Sniper just laughed it off and told him he was fine. Scout had also noticed Sniper to be absentminded more often, which worried the runner a little as well as Sniper is normally a very focussed person.

Right now however, Scout wrote those little things off as nothing, wanting to believe Sniper’s story. Not wanting to give any thought to the little voice in his head telling him something just wasn’t right.

He simply wished to believe that everything was _okay_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we just take a MOMENT to mourn the loss of the cinnoman and sugar coated apple pieces, may they rest in peace… 'Cause that shit good!!
> 
> Also, hey Snoez! Tag, you're it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:   
There are a couple of mentions to violence and multiple instances where child abuse gets implied, but that's it! Please take care!!

It was getting late, far later than both Demo and Sniper had expected it to get, but their target still hadn’t shown up and while their shared patience was running rather low, there wasn’t a single atom in their entire body that thought about letting this go. Even _if_ Demo had been rather skittish about this particular kill all evening already.

“I don’t know, mate..” Demo suddenly spoke up. Offering as good as nothing to argue their current situation. “Are we _sure_ about this one?”

“One hundred percent.” Sniper answered coldly. All night already Demo had been checking time and time again whether they were waiting for the right person, to see if they weren’t just going all in on someone innocent, but the soul reason Demo was so unsure now compared to the usual trust in their little missions was because today’s target was a _woman_ instead of a man.

“What makes you believe she might be innocent compared to all the other’s we’ve seen?”

Sniper noticed Demo slightly shifting in his seat as he grabbed onto the steering wheel a tad bit tighter than before, the unease perfectly visible on his face and his brow crunching up in doubt. “I’m not saying she’s innocent,” Demo started, sentence already trailing off and from the wavering tone in his voice, the marksman just _knew_ it wouldn’t go anywhere.

Sniper could tell that the Scot was clearly nervous about their upcoming encounter, which was a world of difference to his usual approach. Somewhere Sniper understood Demo’s agitation, but someplace deeper inside of himself he wasn’t exactly faced by what they were about to do. This woman was as much of a criminal as all the men they’ve punished so far and Sniper wasn’t about to make an amend to their own sense of justice _just because_ they were facing a lady instead of a man.

“How is this so easy for you?” Demo suddenly asked and that question hit Sniper in such a strange way, he needed a moment to scurry around his brain for some sort of answer to that. What the hell did Demo mean by _easy_? This wasn’t _easy_ for Sniper, was it? Sniper was aware that he appeared rather impassive about the matter at this point, but that didn’t mean he didn’t _care_, didn’t mean he doesn’t feel anything whenever they’d consciously decide to murder someone.

It made him sound inhumane, sound cold and bitter and everything he was afraid of becoming. It wasn’t true, Sniper wouldn’t let that happen. It was just ridiculous.

“What now Demo?” Sniper said in an attempt to find some witty answer, something quick to respond that would give Demo a gentle push away from the serious nature of that question and towards something more amusing, something to take the edge off the tension growing within Demo’s little car. “Honestly didn’t expect you to react this way. Just because she’s a lady doesn’t mean she didn’t do what she’s been charged for-” Sniper said, meanwhile thumbing through the documents he had laying in his lap. “-_three_ times already. Only reason she didn’t end up going to jail is because of what always happens,” He closed the map holding the documents together with attitude, turning to make eye-contact with Demo and get his point across. “bloody procedural mistakes.”

Demo shook his head as he sighed out deeply. “I get it, you’ve made your point, alright? No need to get all smart about it. Christ, feels like Medic’s sitting right next to me.”

Sniper smiled at the offhand remark, peering outside for a second to make sure the coast was still clear, before answering: “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Demo chuckled in return to Sniper’s answer, making the marksman believe things were already better, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders just because Demo had managed to muster up a laugh to Sniper’s stupid joke. The last person Sniper wanted to have bad blood with right now was Demo, surely when their collaboration meant so much to him and besides, the Scot was his best buddy after all.

But being great buddies also meant pestering and teasing, never letting the other life something down and as Sniper looked back at the Scot with a slight grin on his face, that expression was quick to falter again.

“You seem to be in a better mood compared to yesterday, by the way.” That comment was a low blow, surely because it wasn’t a reminder to Sniper. Hell, the marksman had been thinking about yesterday’s encounter with Scout all day already, the only thing this _witty_ comment managed to do was confirm to Sniper that he’d crossed a line.

So basically telling him something he already knew.

“Yeah,” Sniper scoffed. “not everybody would be in a marvellous mood after having your hideout being blown into smithereens and getting killed yourself because of it.”

“You bloody eejit!” Demo was quick to respond and the velocity in which he’d made that half turn in his seat to point an accusatory finger towards the marksman, was more than a little amusing. “We both know I’m not talking about that and besides I apologized and you said it was fine! Don’t be holding grudges on me, lad.”

“I’m not, mate, calm down.” Sniper assured him. “It was just a joke.” In actuality it had been more so a try to change the subject. Sniper didn’t want to talk about what happened yesterday, what he’d done, how he’d reacted. It was horrible and it had his stomach turning all day already. He just couldn’t shake the look in Scout’s eyes, the fright and confusion evident in the soft blue of his eyes and the way his hands had been slightly shaking where they’d been clutched around Sniper’s wrists, as if he’d believed for _only_ a moment there that Sniper was actually going to hurt him.

A silence had fallen within the little car, or perhaps Sniper’s thoughts had been so overwhelmingly loud that it drowned out everything else. As of lately they had a bit of a habit of doing that and it was frustrating, just like a lot of other things had been. He could somehow feel it building up inside himself. This pile of frustration and anger was burning him up from the inside out, exhausting every last cell of his body as it clawed itself a way up to his brain, but Sniper refused. He was stronger than that, was able to mostly push it away before it reached someplace where it mattered. What happened yesterday was something he never wanted to face _ever again_. No matter what.

The feeling of Demo hurriedly hitting Sniper’s shoulder shook the marksman from his thoughts. Resurfacing as quickly as he could, the marksman looked at the Scot with mild confusion, yet comprehension washed over him quickly as Demo pointed a finger outside and Sniper noticed a woman walking by.

They watched her stroll by slowly, taking in the way she’d every so often looked over her shoulder. Her hands were buried deep inside the pockets of her leather jacket and a cigarette was hanging from her mouth, lighting up her face in dark dramatic colours every time she took a long drag and exhaled a thick plume of smoke.

Sniper quickly retrieved a picture from within the many papers he’d laying in his lap, holding it up for both him and Demo to look at and to determine whether this was really the person they’d been waiting nearly two hours for. He studied the photo quickly, comparing the way her light blond hair was resting on her shoulders to how it was tied up in a bun now or straining to see whether her left eyebrow had a rather sizable cut in it or not. Her posture was the same, however and whenever she made half a turn to watch her back, Sniper could study the details of her face and after a mere two minutes, both Demo and Sniper could safely assume they had the right person.

“It’s her.” Demo simply confirmed. “You remember the plan?”

Sniper nodded his head, meanwhile gripping onto the knife safely hidden away in the inner pocket of his vest and watching Demo slip on a plain red sweater and a grey cap, whatever the Scot needed to look like an ordinary citizen asking questions and not like a mercenary trying to distract her.

There were two parts to this plan; one where someone would approach her and act like they needed help, make up some story about a broken down car, and a part where someone would silently approach her from behind and stab her to death. Sniper had agreed on the latter, to be the one actually committing the murder and maybe he’d made that decision because Demo had seen obviously nervous to take out this tiny little criminal of a woman _and_ Sniper’s capacity to initiate small talk with people was more dead than this woman was about to be.

Or perhaps Sniper just needed _something_ to work out some of his frustration and maybe, just maybe, battle back at the base wasn’t cutting it anymore.

_No_. He told himself firmly. _That’s bloody ridiculous_. He’d simply agreed to completing this part for Demo’s sake. The Scot hadn’t seen comfortable and Sniper wanted to help him out. That was it. He wasn’t some crazed fucking idiot!

So he shook his head firmly, shushing away whatever thought trying to second guess himself as he watched Demo exit the car and approach their target.

This would just be another job done, another name taken, another criminal killed. After six, nearly seven months of doing this, nothing in Sniper’s commitment had changed, no matter what he might try to tell himself.

\--

The clock had already long passed 3am when Demo and Sniper arrived back at the base. After sharing their usual beer – which wasn’t even needed considering that the entire team was supposed to be asleep now – Demo and Sniper parted ways and the commotion of that night faded to the back of their minds. It was late and they were tired, so a short nod and a raised hand would serve as their departing gesture and both were okay with that.

After remembering Scout telling him about a baseball game he really wanted to watch that evening and them deciding to sleep in the base rather than the RV that night, Sniper trudged through the base towards Scout’s room. He rubbed his face a couple of times to fight the feeling of heavy eyelids as he walked through the corridor and passed the REC room, something rather odd suddenly catching his eye.

There was a bright light bleeding from the REC room into the hallway and from the little way the door was opened, Sniper could hear that distinctive sound of static playing on a TV. The perfect indication that _whoever_ was still in there, had fallen asleep.

He pushed until the door opened completely and stepped inside, having a slight hunch on who exactly was spending their Saturday night snoring away on the couch and as he walked up to the TV to shut it off before turning himself around again, Sniper was _right on the money_ with his first bet.

There, laying with all his gangly limbs tangled, mouth half open and hair all mushed up, was Scout. He sure looked the picture, but as Sniper looked at the runner reclining on that couch, sorrowless and legs intertwined with the blanket which clearly had lost its original purpose of keeping him warm, he felt this pleasant feeling spreading deep inside his chest and some sort of calmness wash over him. It was as if a cloud had cleared above his head, taking away some of the frustration he’d felt building inside of himself and forming this soft smile on his face instead as he walked closer to the couch and gathered the vastly sleeping runner into his arms and hoisted him up.

He carried him bridle style through the corridor and towards Scout’s room, feeling the runner settle against his chest while vast asleep, calmly breathing in and out. The little gesture managed another soft smile on Sniper’s face as he continued his walk.

Scout was someone easy to carry, being the rather thin person that he was, Sniper had little to no problem manoeuvring them to be able to open the door to Scout’s room and walk inside. Sniper carefully laid him down onto his bed, pulling off his shoes before throwing the blanket over the still very much sleeping runner who quickly rolled over into a more comfortable position and snored on like he _hadn’t_ just been moved three rooms.

Sniper knew Scout was a pretty heavy sleeper, but he never thought he was _this_ heavy of a sleeper. He looked very peaceful though and that’s all Sniper really cared about as he ran a hand through Scout’s short cropped hair and kissed his head.

As he drew back and sat himself on the side of Scout’s bed, something within the marksman reminded him that he really did love Scout, a lot and _suddenly _his expression slowly fell, smile faltering and brow slightly furrowing as that exact same thought reminded him of yesterday, of the lie he told Scout to save his skin and it made his mood fall down deeply and his chest tighten with unease.

He hadn’t been fair to Scout and sadly Sniper knew that the chances of that changing were slim.

And that’s something that really fucking hurt.

But… he couldn’t tell Scout the truth, couldn’t come clean about all the white lies he’s told him over the years, because the grave Sniper had been digging for himself was simply becoming too deep. There was just too much Sniper so badly wanted to forget but was unable to, too much forcing him to keep everyone at a safe distance, _even_ Scout.

He’d done too much, lied too much and as Sniper sat there with his head in his hands and sighing out deeply, fighting this distressing emotion of feeling incomplete and bordering on _hollow_ he knew he’d gotten to a point with no return.

And that’s a lonely place to be.

\--

“Mom…” A tiny, fragile, eight year old voice spoke as he ever so slightly tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “Mom, I feel sick.”

Soft, worried eyes looked down at him as a gentle and caring hand gestured out to stroke his hair and feel for his temperature. “What do you mean, honey? What’s wrong?”

He nervously fumbled with his own shirt now, eyes averting for a moment as his stomach did churn with unease, but not because of sickness or nausea, but because of stress. “I don’t feel well, I… I..” He was struggling to portray his message and the way his mother was looking at him with that expression only she’s ever able to show, that expression that looks at him with worry and confusion, yet also love and gentleness as she’s _really_ trying to understand what he’s trying to tell her, made Mickey’s little stomach turn even more with this selfish feeling of what he _wanted, _but never would be able to actually ask.

A soft smile curled the corners of her mouth as that same gentle hand that had been resting on his forehead now cupped his cheek. “Tell me, Mickey. You know your father and I are heading out soon, so please tell me what’s going on.”

“I just… I feel sick…” He tried again fruitlessly, hoping somewhere deep inside himself that they _wouldn’t_ leave, that they’d just stay at home with him.

But he knew better and that knowledge nearly had him on the verge of tears.

“Oh Mickey, dear.” His mother spoke with compassion colouring the tone of her voice, both hands cupping his round little face and smiling down at him with such a loving expression that Mickey found himself weakly smiling back at her. “Your father and I won’t be gone for long, okay? And hey, you won’t be alone!” She said cheerily, as if that piece of knowledge would make him feel _any_ better.

It wouldn’t, in fact, it only made him feel so much fucking worse.

“Your uncle’s on his way already and he’ll take great care of you!” That devastating feeling of wanting to bawl and wanting to scream his lungs out returned with the force of a brick flying at his head, but he fought hard to not change an inch of his expression, fought hard to not show that not all might be well and that little Mickey was simply _terrified_.

And although Mickey smiled back at his lovely mother, he still caught something changing in her expression, something sparking in her light green eyes that alarmed him. Her eyebrows furrowed only slightly, but the stare she gave him was so captivating, as if she was trying her best to read his mind.

“Would you rather we stay, perhaps?”

His expression softened, brow relaxing and shoulders sagging slightly with _relief _somehow, because there it was, the moment Mickey had been longing for. The moment one of his parents would suggest that themselves, would grand him a way out of this stressful situation by simply agreeing and admitting that maybe yes, he’d rather have them staying home with him.

But as he looked back into his mother’s gentle eyes, he found himself shaking his head, no. He couldn’t bare himself being that selfish, couldn’t ask for them to not go enjoy their night out and stay home instead for a reason he _couldn’t_ even explain to them.

It wasn’t fair. Mickey simply couldn’t do it.

“I’ll be fine,” He said softly, the empty smile returning to his lips and visibly settling his mother a little bit better than before as she yet again carted a hand through his soft dark brown hair, telling him he just needed some rest to feel all better again.

The sound of descending footsteps down the stairs broke the pair up as his dad entered the room. He smiled warmly at his wife and son and Mickey could just see how excited he was to go out that evening. Another indication that he could’ve never asked them to stay.

“Go on, love.” His mother said as she softly patted his back. “Go on and give your father a hug before we leave. Your uncle’s about to be here soon.” Mickey did as he was told, dashing out towards his dad, who’d – because of the severe height difference – had squatted down to be on eye level with his son, making the hug go ten times easier. He crashed into his father’s arms and hugged him closely, telling him he’ll miss them and that he hoped they’d have a great time tonight.

And he actually meant it.

After his dad patted his back and hugged him back, heartedly, they broke apart from the hug and Mickey watched him walk towards his mother. Giving her some sweet compliment about her appearance, Jonathan kissed his wife and smiled goofily at her afterwards, obvious love and admiration visible in that single expression. It was a look Mickey loved seeing on either their faces, because it meant they were happy and that’s all he ever wanted, for his parents to be happy.

It was a sweet little moment, one Mickey looked at with big hopeful eyes as his mind – for just a single instant – forgot about the stressful evening that was awaiting him.

But _that _sudden loud knock at the door was enough to shatter the entire moment and for Mickey’s eyes to grow big, but with fear this time. He watched his father walk towards the door to open it and those five seconds it took him to do that and let his brother inside, were the longest seconds of Mickey’s entire life.

And now here it was, the beginning of an awful evening, a stressful evening and the source of all that fear and unease was the man who now nonchalantly strut through the door.

Gary Mundy, that was his name, the name of the person who completely and unapologetically ruined his life.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sniper: *Stares at the messy bitch that is Scout* I love this Goddamned man
> 
> It's been so long since the last update and I am so sorry for that! I've been real busy and just some things made continuing rather hard, but here we are with another chapter and I'm really happy with what came out of it! 
> 
> And don't forget kids, PEDO'S IS BAD and fuck transphobes! I'm here to portray that message for as long as I possibly fucking can


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back!! Sorry for the wait, it's been a minute, but I had to study for my exams.  
Like usual I'll put a trigger warning for pedophilia and reference to the murder of pedophiles rihgt here.

Battle was going rough today as Demo’s mind was occupied with other affairs. Even though he’d never really felt much before, he couldn’t help but keep thinking about the last ‘hunt’ Sniper and him had done. Something about it just didn’t sit well with him, maybe more than one thing. It was a fact that he’d felt odd about the gender of their last victim, they’d never encountered a female pedophile before, but that wasn’t the only thing that kept his mind busy. Something about Sniper’s behaviour had been bothering him since a little while now, but as of last time he finally realised what it was.

When thinking about how little he’d felt about the murders they’d committed in the last 6 months, that meant afterwards, because during their little games of catch the predator Demo had always been at least a little bit nervous or uneasy. After all it isn’t exactly easy taking somebody’s life when you know they’re not simply going to reboot again. That small feeling of doubt, of remorse was necessary for Demo to feel human and exactly that was what made him question Sniper’s intentions.

Sniper seemed to think it was just a little bit too easy to take somebody’s life like that.

Surely that was a façade Sniper was holding up, because he didn’t want to seem uncertain about what they were doing, or at least that’s what Demo assumed, but somehow that made it even worse. Sniper wasn’t one to open up about himself, his past or his feelings at all, which made it a bit of a guessing game to know what was going on in his head. What baggage he was possibly carrying.

In his free time Demo was quite the reader, having a large range of genres in his possession, he often enjoyed books with a psychological theme. More than once now he remembered a passage in one of his books talking about pedophiles and pedophilic behaviour and how people with a strong disgust towards them were often one of the following: someone with repressed romantic feelings towards underaged people themselves, or a victim of one.

Now Demo was 100% certain Sniper wasn’t the first case, even though the mercs would sometimes joke about how Scout looked twelve, and he didn’t exactly agree with the statement from the book anyway, because where would that place himself. He had _strong _feelings of disgust towards pedophiles as well and surely he didn’t belong to either of those categories. However something about his friend just gave him odd vibes, like there was more going on than just ‘pedo’s are bad and don’t get the punishment they deserve, let’s kill them’.

Thoughts like these had been stealing sleep from Demo more often as of lately, together with something Sniper had said after Demo found him killing that very first guy at the bar.

“Don’t tell Scout.”

It had become a bit of a joke between the two of them, but obviously there was a lot of truth in it as well. They simply couldn’t tell anybody about their_ activities._ Even if sometimes Demo wished he could, only sometimes. He was a very talkative person and even though he wasn’t bad at keeping secrets, sometimes he just wanted to be able to talk to somebody about everything he couldn’t say out loud. If only Sniper had been a little bit more of a talker.

\--

“So what is it that you needed to see me about?” Medic looked at Sniper over his glasses as he changed to a more comfortable position in his chair. His icy blue eyes scanning Sniper to see if he could already tell what the reason of his visit was.

“Nothing too big, really. Just wondering if you had something for me that could help me sleep a little better, since that’s been going quite shitty as of lately.”

Medic once again changed the way he sat, this time straightening out his back as he grabbed a pen to hover it over a notebook that he’d opened on a thoroughly sought out part. All of his senses where 100% focused on Sniper as he awaited a further explanation. An explanation however didn’t follow so instead Medic cleared his throat after which he continued the conversation on his own.

“What exactly seems to be the problem? Difficulty falling asleep? Difficulty staying asleep? Both? And are there any physical complaints causing the insomnia? Rapid heartrate? Joint pains? Muscle aches perhaps? Is it a daily issue and if not how often do you experience these problems. Oh and if not, do your sleeping problems happen when you’re alone in your bed or when Scout’s sleeping next to you? Perhaps you wake up from something he does in bed, like moving a lot, kicking or maybe snoring, or perhaps you wake up from your own snoring. Do you feel tired during the day or does the lack of sleep cause an opposite reaction which makes you very energized?”

Mistakes were made. It was a common occurrence that people who had to see Medic about something, anything really, would try to explain as quickly and thoroughly as possible exactly what brought them to him. The reason therefore, Medic talks… a lot. If you give him a chance he’ll try to diagnose you before knowing all the details, working out a zillion scenarios against one another together with all the possible ways to cure them… if possible at least. A few months ago for example, Spy had come to see Medic about a nasty cough that he’d been suffering from for a little over a week by then and while Spy hadn’t even sat down yet, walking in while coughing, Medic had already summed up possibilities in his mind from a simple cold all the way up to lung cancer, stage 4 being the worst case scenario. In the end it was just your everyday cold which was easily cured with some coughing syrup.

Another time Soldier had been pestered with some stomach issues and without wanting to have to deal with one-hundred-and-one cases that could possibly involve vomit and diarrhea, he burst out every issue he’d had and every feeling he had felt before Medic could possibly pre-diagnose him. He hadn’t even sat down yet, basically walking in while talking, not giving Medic a chance to say anything until he’d fully and explicitly explained his entire story.

Now that Sniper properly thought about it, he was surprised, impressed even by the time it had taken Medic to start a conversation with himself about Sniper’s potential health issues. Normally he wouldn’t take the time to grab a pen and give the person in front of him a chance to explain their presence. He also realised however, that once Medic started talking, there could be a long list of questions before he gave a chance for the other person to answer them, so before he couldn’t remember the first question anymore, Sniper decided to cut short Medic’s medical monologue.

“It’s difficult to both fall and stay asleep, which has nothing to do with Scout’s presence, and it’s not like I experience these issues every day, but definitely often enough that it interferes with my daily tasks every now and again. More often than not actually. Negative on the physical complaints as well as the snoring and/or kicking issues.”

Sniper folded his hands into his lap as he looked Medic straight in the eyes. He wanted to be as quick and complete with his answers as possible and for Medic to just give him a sleeping pill or something like that and let Sniper leave. He wanted to go back to the RV and not have to worry about extra questions or digging for more satisfying answers.

Medic sat back in his chair for a second, moving his gaze from Sniper towards the notebook he’d opened on his desk in front of him. It seemed like Medic was scanning his entire brain for causes of insomnia, like a computer scanning for all the documents that contained information about a certain topic.

“Do you pee standing up or sitting down?”

“What now?”

“Peeing. Do you stand or sit while taking a leak?”

The sheer confusion on Sniper’s face must have been more than just a slight bit visible. What the hell does your way of peeing have to do with not sleeping well, was all Sniper could think. It seemed like such an irrelevant question to ask.

“The way you pee could be of great importance. You see, someone who urinates standing up will not fully empty their bladder. A not fully emptied bladder could cause a quicker filling, so where you could normally go all night without the feeling of a bursting bladder until morning, you instead get woken up because of the urge to wee at night.”

“You really don’t have to worry about my peeing habits, Doc. I empty my bladder more often than not and I have a rather big stocking capacity anyway. Besides, if that were the case I would have the urge to piss whenever I can’t sleep, right? I don’t.”

Another moment of silence fell as Medic once again went over some new reasons for insomnia in his head. He sure wasn’t going to let this one go without a strong fight, so Sniper knew he was in for the long run.

“How about certain habits? You are a smoker aren’t you? Have you been smoking more often lately or would you say that the numbers are rather stable? How many cigarettes do you smoke a day, could you give me an average? Perhaps you don’t really count them so a rough estimate is good enough. Do you have a number of cigarettes a day that you aren’t allowed to surpass by any chance, because for example Spy does that. He said it was a way to keep himself in check just a little bit, but than again I don’t think it’s very helpful when your number is fifty... A well, at least we can say that he doesn’t smoke more than fifty cigarettes a day, so that is good… I guess. So anyway, can you give me an average?”

“Euhm, like ten-ish.”

“A day?”

“Yeah… a day.”

Medic grabbed the pen again that he’d been playing with every now and then during their conversation to write something down for the first time since Sniper came in. People already had trouble reading a doctor’s handwriting on the regular, but trying to do so upside down was completely impossible Sniper found out, so instead of bending over backwards and trying with all his might to figure out whether that was a zero, o or a Medic had written down in between all those other figures Sniper assumed to be letters, he simply waited until the pen stopped bleeding ink.

“Did you know that nicotine, which is a component of cigarettes, acts as a stimulant for the human body? It basically keeps us awake when we feel tired and want to go to sleep. Now, there are not many cases in which people purposely use it to deliberately stay awake, but it happens more often than not that people who are addicted to smoking, like yourself, experience insomnia as a side effect. Have you ever considered stopping? Ever felt like kicking the habit?”

“Not really, it’s not like I smoke that much, so I don’t feel like my _habit_ is problematic.”

Medic folded his hands underneath his chin, elbows resting on his desk as he leaned in closer to Sniper.

“Well to be honest anybody who smokes, even if it is only one cigarette a day, has a problematic habit. The lungs get dirtied after all, so there will always be a less proper pulmonary activity in habitual smokers. Than again, statistically speaking it is more likely for people who quit to relapse into their old habits than it is for them to never ever smoke again, so if the problem isn’t immediately killing you, why bother even trying to quit, right?”

Sniper couldn’t help feel judged after that last statement. Medic wasn’t wrong, of course, that was more or less his mindset, but Medic had a way of wording things that made it feel like you were doing something horribly wrong. It was just a few cigarettes, not like he was smoking fifty like a certain someone was, so why was he getting lectured while Spy was doing so much worse.

“I don’t think a few cigarettes are keeping me awake at night, Doc, but thanks.”

“Well than, is there something on your mind that keeps you from a good night’s rest, something that has happened, a memory or a dream perhaps? A mind that is being pestered with thoughts, can never fully be at ease after all. Maybe something that you haven’t really thought about in a while and has been resurfacing as of lately or perhaps-”

“That’s bloody ridiculous!”

The sentence had left Sniper’s lips so quickly and without him fully noticing, that he couldn’t stop himself from saying it nor could he regulate the volume with which he said it. Not wanting the silence to last or worse, be broken by Medic asking questions, Sniper tried to quickly regain composure by reseating in his seat and clearing his throat.

“I really think that you’re searching way too far, Doc. I honestly believe I just messed up my sleeping schedule by staying up too late a little too long and having to wake up early, so if I could just have a few good nights of sleep, I’ll probably be good again.”

“Well, you might be correct about this messed up sleeping rhythm. There is this hormone our bodies produce at certain points during the day, it is called melatonin and it regulates our sleeping. Basically the moment our melatonin-peek is the highest, which is around midnight, is the period we can fall asleep the easiest. Now staying up way past that point will cause difficulty in falling asleep and the amount of melatonin we produce can also be effected by light. Daylight, light from a television screen and often even a simple nightlight can cause for a lack of melatonin production which causes problematic sleeping patterns.”

Medic gave his explanation in the exact same way he would have without Sniper’s little loss of composure, simply explaining a scientific phenomenon. He made it seem like Sniper hadn’t just raised his voice and told him his theories were dumb and too far fetched, which made trying to end the conversation and just getting what he came for seem a little easier than before to Sniper.

“Yeah that could very well be possible. The thing is I can’t force myself to fall asleep on my own, so if you could just give me something to help me sleep, just for a little while, I’m sure I’ll be able to fall and stay asleep normally again in a few days, maybe a week from now.”

Once again Medic wrote something in his notebook, looking up to Sniper for a second before writing again.

“I’m not really a fan of sleeping pills, because they can bring a lot of side effects with them and I mean _a lot, _but if it is only for a few days I guess we could give it a shot.”

Medic opened a drawer to grab a small glass bottle of soft blue oval pills and put it in the middle of his desk, creating about the same distance between himself and the bottle and the bottle and Sniper. He wrote something down and than quickly looked at Sniper over his glasses again.

“Take one pill with a big glass of water right before going to bed and if you experience anything that you might consider as odd, like pain somewhere or a strange feeling in your limbs or anywhere else, it doesn’t matter what it is you feel, you come back immediately, okay?”

“Immediately. Thanks Doc.”

Sniper quickly grabbed the bottle of pills and got out of his chair in one swift move, quickly walking towards the door of Medic’s office and grabbing the doorknob.

“Oh and Sniper, now that you’re here anyway. How about I treat that hand of yours?”

\--

“Ah Sniper. Coming from the doctor I see. Is everything alright, lad?”

Demo’s gaze immediately fell onto the clean white bandage around Sniper’s right hand. His head shot back up to meet Sniper’s eyes, which were looking around hastily for just a mere second. In only that little second it looked to Demo like Sniper was caught of guard by Demo’s sudden presence, like he wasn’t expecting to meet anybody between Medic’s office and his RV. It looked a little like when a parent caught a child doing something they weren’t supposed to and the child was seeking for an excuse to get themselves out of the situation.

“What the hell happened to your hand? Did you get hurt during battle?”

“Ah yeah, this time it wasn’t one of your bombs though.” Sniper let out a low chuckle and Demo tried to repress a little smile appearing on his lips.

“Actually I was climbing down the nest after battle when I slipped and fell. As I was protecting my body with my left arm I held out my right arm in a fist and landed on it before rolling on my side. My knuckles were bleeding and looked rough so Medic patched me up real quick.”

Demo looked at Sniper from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and back. The story Sniper was trying to sell, he had trouble buying for some reason.

“That’s a really weird way of falling. I mean, people try to break their fall by holding out their hands, but I think you are probably the first person who’s ever tried to break their fall using _one_ fist.”

“I know right, don’t know why my body choose to do that, but that was my first instinct. I thought it was odd myself, but hey in such situations adrenaline just takes over and you have no choice in the matter anymore, right mate.”

Demo gave a little nod to confirm Sniper’s theory, after all it was true that in frightful and stressful situations our bodies seemed to just react on their own without our consent.

“What are the pills for? Are you sick?”

“Oh, painkillers. Yeah the fall was rather painful and moving my hand and fingers hurts so since I need to be able to use my hands, in any situation really, I asked Medic if he could give me something to relieve the pain a little.”

Blue pain pills. Surely Demo hadn’t seen those before, but then again he wasn’t a doctor or pharmacist and he definitely wasn’t a painkiller expert, so it didn’t seem all too odd to him. Looking at Sniper’s state right now, Demo suddenly realised that with Sniper injured they surely weren’t going to go true with their ‘night out’ this weekend, since their planned _activity _would be a lot more difficult if Sniper could only use one hand. Definitely considering it was his dominant hand he had injured.

“I guess we won’t be going out drinking this weekend now that you’re injured.”

“Oh no we’re still going.”

Sniper must have noticed Demo’s quick change in facial expression, because he immediately continued talking without leaving any dead air for Demo to say something.

“Demo we can’t not go. We’re prepared. We’ve done all the research. We can’t just throw it all in the bin because of one minor obstruction.”

It was silent for a second as Demo needed some time to process what Sniper was saying. How could he be thinking only about the work they’d put in their research and seemingly not give a damn about being hurt?

“Is it because you’re still thinking about the last one? You’ve got to get over it, mate. Yeah it was odd that she was female, but that didn’t make her innocent. Come on man, you can’t betray me like this. We’re a team, remember. We’re in this together.”

With those last words and a pat on Demo’s back, Sniper hurried of on his way to the RV, leaving a slightly confused Demo behind. Yes he still felt odd about their last murder, but that was completely beside the point right now. Sniper was hurt and Demo was simply worried that his injury could possible cause troubles. The weird choice of a word like betray didn’t sit well with Demo, either. It nearly made him feel like Sniper was accusing him of protecting these damn pedophiles.

Sniper was definitely right about one things though. They were in this together, so Demo surely wasn’t going to let his friend down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again sorry for the wait and thank you so much for reading!!  
Lots of love,   
YRwrites
> 
> P.S. Hey Snoezibol. Tag you're it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
I'd say there's like a super quick mention of self harm in the beginning of the chapter, it's only a few words long and maybe not even noticible, but still if you know it'll affect you badly, please proceed with caution!  
Also there are a few ~saucy~ implications near the and at the end of the fic, so be alert for that too!

The conversation with Demo hadn’t exactly died down inside Sniper’s head as he exited the base, in fact, it’d only gotten louder. He kept wondering whether maybe he’d seemed too eager about this weekend and that _maybe_ not going this one time wasn’t that bad of an idea, even _if_ it was for nothing but to hold up this façade. Yet whenever Sniper considered it, this strange spark shot all throughout him, something telling him that not going once will lead into not going two or three other more times and that eventually it’ll all die down and these little errands he and Demo had been running would stop happening all together.

And for some reason that was a rather heavy thing for Sniper to stomach.

It was just… a _hard_ situation to monitor, because not only was there the paranoia of being afraid Demo might want to quit, the _other_ paranoia of wanting to keep everything under wraps, of wanting to be in control of all his emotions was there telling him complete other things. It was turning his mind into mush and sparked the beginning of a goddamned headache. Though it was hard not to get inside his own head like this, surely because in some weird sense, it comes with needing reassurance and Sniper knew he couldn’t ever count on that. Not seventeen years ago and _surely_ not now.

He gave a quick shake of his head as if fruitlessly shushing it all away as he’d finally sauntered all the way to his RV. Though he suddenly came to a stop as he gave the little bottle of pills in his hand a squeeze and asked himself; _What will I tell Scout?_

The truth? He looked down at his bandaged hand, thought about that little moment of weakness up in his nest, that sense of being completely lost and needing something to draw him back to earth.

He shook his head. What was he even thinking? This decision had been made even before he’d left the base. Half the truth is often a whole lie, but it was all Sniper ever could and would offer Scout. He cared for him a whole lot, calming his own conscious by telling himself it was a way to protect him, which was all he cared about, all he _ever_ cared about.

With his mind made up, Sniper opened the door to his RV only to be greeted by the sight of Scout sitting on his couch Indian style while reading a comic book. The concentration knitting his brow together and the gloom shadowing his face as if he were figuring out one of Engineer’s blueprints had Sniper smirking within an instant, mood suddenly a lot lighter than before.

God, he loved this man so much. The feeling was nearly overwhelming.

“You know staring ain’t polite, love. You’re making that comic feel violated I bet.” Sniper took of his hat and glasses as he snickered at his own comment, that threatening to grow into actual laughter as Scout dropped the comic down into his lap in one quick but hard gush, head turning towards the marksman.

“This comic ain’t polite for using way too many fucking words. It’s written way too little!” Scout empathized his point by holding the comic up and jabbing a finger into one of its pages. “This shit’s making me believe I need glasses or something, which I don’t! Ridiculous.” The runner shook his head only to throw the comic half way across the RV.

Sniper frowned at it, before shifting his gaze towards his lover, a single eyebrow quirking as he asked; “Are you done? Is this little tantrum over?”

Scout held his gaze a little longer, daringly looking back until his façade cracked and his usual smile appeared on his face, though it didn’t quite last as Scout’s eyes did a quick look over of Sniper and two things immediately caught his eye, a single sentence escaping him within an instance. “What happened to you?”

The atmosphere took such a dramatic turn that – despite knowing that question was coming – Sniper couldn’t help but to feel startled. He looked at his hand again quickly, before returning his gaze to Scout who was staring back at him with slight confusion and mild concern.

“I fell during battle and never went through respawn afterwards, so Medic patched it up for me.” Sniper replied easily, nothing about him even suggesting that he might be lying.

“And the pills..?”

Now this was something else. Sniper had told Demo that these were painkillers, but he was aware he couldn’t feed Scout the same lie, because all it would take for the runner to know he was lying was one simple look at the label. Better to tell him the truth, Sniper borderline agreed with himself, no need to start digging himself into a shithole here. And besides, Scout was aware that Sniper hadn’t been sleeping the best as off lately, it _nearly_ made sense to tell him the truth.

“I err- I haven’t been sleeping too well lately, so I asked Medic for something to help.” He gave the bottle of pills a light shake. “He gave me these.” Sniper watched Scout’s expression closely as he went to put the pills away in one of the nearby kitchen cabinets and noticed the runner slowly and lightly nodding his head, but before he could ask anything else, Sniper continued dismissively. “But most importantly it’s nothing for you to worry about, alright love? I’ve always been a difficult sleeper, it ain’t nothing new.”

Scout’s whole countenance cleared up a little after that. “Yeah I guess you _haven’t_ been sleeping too well lately.” The marksman simply nodded as he went to join the runner on the couch, giving him a quick peck on the lips before unapologetically plopping himself down as the runner almost instinctively wrapped his arms around Sniper, allowing the taller man to basically use him as a makeshift pillow.

Though Scout’s train of thought hadn’t exactly halted yet and Sniper noticed that as he looked up and into Scout’s eyes, noticing some of those gears turning inside the runner’s head and after another second of silence, Scout spoke again. “Not to sound like a total pussy here, but I have a feeling that I don’t tell you this enough.” He started of slowly, hands gesturing out to comb through Sniper’s dark brown hair, seemingly a little nervous and out of his element. “B-but I hope you know that you can tell me _anything_, alright? If there’s something like _going on_ or _bothering you_, you can tell me. Can’t promise I’ll have, you know, something fancy to say to make you feel better, but I can listen.”

Saying that he hadn’t expected that was too big of an understatement, because Scout telling him that, however innocent his intentions may be, kicked Sniper’s mind into overdrive and had the gears in his own head turning. Had Scout noticed anything? Was he catching up? Had Sniper done something to make him believe he wasn’t okay? Had Sniper _said_ something to make him believe he wasn’t okay? Had he not been careful enough? Did he know about his errands with Demo? Had Scout-

“You know like what happened with the BLU Spy a bit back, that situation that caused you to react so odd? Stuff like that.” Scout’s voice was soft when he interrupted Sniper’s frantic frame of mind, obviously afraid to bring that disaster back up because Sniper still hadn’t quite forgiven himself for it and the runner was well aware of that. That aside, however, Scout mentioning it did make Sniper believe he wasn’t really onto anything new and it allowed for Sniper’s heart to stop beating a tattoo into his chest and for his brain to stop grinding itself into a pulp. Scout was simply saying this out of care, concern and frankly, out of _love_ and it had Sniper smiling softly before he looked back up at the runner.

And Sniper fought real hard to not let that genuine smile falter as he looked back at the man he loved more than anything. Scout looked so hopeful, so open and honest and as Sniper nodded, telling him; “I know, love, don’t worry about it.” he felt his heart ache and expression slightly faltering despite his best efforts.

It really hurt to lie like that, to look Scout straight in the eyes and lie to him as if nothing of this meant anything to Sniper. There was no way back from this, which was something Sniper already knew, yet there was something dreary about being held close, being _loved_ and yet still feeling so completely alone.

But that wasn’t Scout’s fault and it never would be. That was a problem for Sniper to solve, _without_ anyone’s help. He couldn’t bear being such burden on someone.

Scout’s goofy smile finally returned to his face as he held either side of Sniper’s face and gave him another kiss. “You know I love you a lot, right Snipes?” Scout asked afterwards, letting go of Sniper and as the marksman laid his head to rest on Scout’s chest, all he did to agree was nod, smile fading completely now.

*********************

The following day Sniper awoke slowly, head a total fuzz from having slept a whopping eight hours, something he _really_ wasn’t used to. Seemed like the medication Medic had given him sure did its job, because besides the fact that he’d slept far longer than usual, Sniper also couldn’t recall a single thing he could’ve dreamt about.

And at this point something like that felt like a miracle to him.

It did take him a solid minute or _five_ to realise where he was and for things to make sense again, giving him a slight inkling that perhaps Medic’s pills weren’t exactly _meant_ for human consumption, but they hadn’t killed Sniper (yet) and they worked, so he sure wasn’t going to complain about it.

When he eventually got a good grip of reality again, Sniper noticed two things. First, he felt two arms squeezed tightly around his waist and the feel of Scout’s face buried in his upper back and second, he could hear and _feel_ the runner softly snoring in his shirt, a perfect indication that he was still vast asleep. That piece of knowledge had a soft smile tugging at Sniper’s lips as he rested his head back onto his pillow, hand gesturing out to absently stroke over the runner’s arm. It was a peaceful little moment, safe from Scout’s – in Sniper’s opinion – endearing snoring, the camper was silent. A soft light blue colour seeped in from the little windows and painted all the parts of the camper it could reach. It was still early, Sniper could tell by the way life was slowly creeping into his RV, but he knew morning was steadily approaching and as he turned his head to take a look at his alarm clock it downed upon him that it was well time to get out of bed and get ready for work.

Well actually it was still well over half an hour for his alarm clock to go off, but Sniper knew from experience that it always took a whole lot of coaxing to get Scout out of a warm bed, surely this early in the morning. Half an hour was more than enough time, however, yet another thing Sniper had learned over time.

The marksman did some shifting around, slowly pealing Scout’s arms away from around his waist so he was able to turn himself around and face the runner. For one moment longer the marksman studied the softer features of Scout’s face as he was still asleep, enjoyed these last seconds of having no direct or demanding thoughts running around his head, before he ran a hand through Scout’s light brown hair to stir him into waking up.

When that didn’t have immediate effect besides Scout taking a deep breath and slightly moving about, Sniper moved to kiss the crown of his head before using his voice to wake the runner up.

“Come on, love, time to wake up.” He said softly, noticing he was getting Scout’s attention now by the way the runner’s eyelids fluttered for a second, that being followed by a protesting groan and another _deep_ sigh. It made Sniper snicker, leaning in to kiss the waking runner on the temple as he murmured a “Good morning, love.” against Scout’s skin. Scout reached up a hand to pat at Sniper’s cheek, his own version of good morning while his entire system was debating for him to just go back to sleep, but Sniper’s way of waking the runner was guaranteed, he knew for sure – and from experience – that Scout’s more affectionate side was stronger than his need to get in some more sleep.

“It’s morning already..?” Scout complained, voice a little hoarse with sleep. Sniper nodded his head, nuzzling a little into the runner and finding their current position a rather pleasant one. He prepped the runner’s neck and shoulder with some more gentle kisses, it now being his turn to reach his arms around the runner’s waist and pull him closer. Truthfully Sniper didn’t mind this closeness, it didn’t make him feel suffocated and he gladly took every moment like this he could get.

“Yeah love, it’s morning. Time to get up and get ready for another _splendid_ day in battle.” Scout finally fully opened his eyes, an absent smile already on his face from Sniper’s sweet little treatment, but the amusement captured in the glance he gave Sniper now really showed the energy seeping back into the runner’s form.

Scout’s smile grew into a crooked one, his own hands gesturing out to yet again take hold of Sniper’s face. “Wowie, looks like Medic’s pills sure did their trick, didn’t they? Haven’t seen you this _awake_ in a long while.” He joked, planting a kiss of his own on the corner of Sniper’s mouth.

“They sure did.” Sniper confirmed, grinning at the display of affection. “Little things made me sleep like a bloody rock.”

Scout’s brow rose slightly, mischief suddenly visible in his expression. “Also made you snore like a goddamn animal.” He offhandedly spoke as he leaned in to kiss Sniper’s cheek this time, but only ending into a laughing fit at Sniper’s reaction.

“What!? No! I didn’t snore… did I??” Scout only continued laughing, finding the innocence and cluelessness in Sniper’s voice more than a little amusing it seemed. “You bloody..” Sniper started as he suddenly attacked Scout’s jaw with more kisses, mind set on turning this little bugger to pure goo.

“Nonono, _please_.” Scout slurred, seemingly experiencing Sniper’s attack as ticklish and if that wasn’t _exactly_ what Sniper wanted. “Please, Snipes, I yield, I _yield_!”

Sniper started chuckling as well, looming over his lover now as he continued to assault his neck, jaw and eventually face as well, holding the runner’s sides as he felt Scout’s stomach muscles strain with laughter.

“You’re such a-,” Another laugh. “_such_ an a-asshole!!” He spluttered, hands weakly pushing at Sniper’s shoulders to get him off of himself. It didn’t bust however and Sniper was rather _enjoying_ this moment of getting back at the runner. However at one point Scout seemed to outsmart Sniper for an instant there as he – instead of trying to push the taller man off of himself – grabbed his face and kissed him square on the lips. Trying to win this little battle by distracting the marksman all together.

Sniper was more than a little surprised by that turn of events, but kissed back nonetheless. Now his hands weren’t only at Scout’s sides to keep balance. His fingertips slowly moved the cloth of Scout’s shirt aside, now stroking hands past Scout’s bare skin.

The kiss stayed more or less _decent_, but those few moments in which it deepened and Sniper felt Scout’s hands roam his back and up his neck to tangle in his hair had the atmosphere take a more serious turn. Sniper was aware that letting this sort of kiss linger was a way of pushing certain feelings, but right at that moment he didn’t care half as much as he wanted to. He’d rather _not_ think himself into a dilemma and just enjoy this silly little moment.

Well _silly little moment_ might be a bit of an understatement with both their tongues down each other’s throats, but _those_ are details.

Yet right as Sniper heard a little moan slip from the runner, the harsh sound of his alarm clock blaring at them to start their day rudely interrupted this intimate moment, putting a brisk stop to an action that held a lot of emotions, an action that usually had quite a _different _end than this.

And Sniper could feel it in the way the runner curled towards him, the way his hands didn’t quite leave their place around Sniper’s neck and groaned disappointedly into the marksman’s mouth.

“Love,” Sniper managed in between, trying to get himself out of Scout’s determent grip, grinning all the while. “Come on now, that alarm clock is your last warning to get out of bed, you know that.”

Scout finally relented, pouting up at the marksman with slightly red and swollen lips, breath heavy. “What a fucking cock block.”

“I know,” Sniper teased as he smiled down at his lover, giving him one last chaste kiss on the cheek, hands lingering _just_ that little longer at the runner’s side.

Maybe another action he shouldn’t have done, yet something else to _push_ the matter beyond his own ability to deal with it.

But Sniper couldn’t possibly see how that could be a problem now.

“Alright, up you get.” Sniper continued as he pat at Scout’s thigh before finally getting up and climbing out of the bunk. “Battle’s in an hour.”

**********************

Sniper knew this was coming, had sensed it all throughout the day, yet he still felt so unprepared and a little frantic even, as if unable to calm himself for something that usually wasn’t even a problem in the first place.

Hands were tugging at his vest, pushing it off of his shoulders to make it fall to the ground, before those same hands pushed him towards the bed in the corner of the room, meanwhile lips were locked, stealing the very breath from one another.

He’d seen this coming, he’d known from all the hints Scout had given him throughout the day. Those few moments of lingering kisses in between battle, moments of Scout sitting just that little closer, letting hands wander, those moments that clearly screamed out that Sniper had pushed it all too far, yet each and every time the marksman had played along like he didn’t know what it was doing, like he wasn’t aware what all of that actually meant.

Because usually this isn’t such a problem. It was something he and Scout had done more than a few times before, this _wasn’t_ the first time in their relationship they’d decided to hop into bed together!

Then _why_ was Sniper feeling so tremendously nervous?

Scout was on top of him within an instant, making brief eye contact with Sniper before diving back in for another deep kiss, hands roaming the expense of Sniper’s chest. The marksman desperately hoped that Scout couldn’t feel his heart beat itself into a frenzy, because it sure was. He didn’t understand why he was so utterly unable to just calm down and _enjoy_ this moment, didn’t get why this was suddenly so much different than what they’d been doing during the morning.

But he could scramble around his brain all he wanted, it didn’t matter really. So he tried pushing it away instead, tried to concentrate on the way his hands eagerly tugged Scout’s shirt from his pants and shucked it up higher for him to feel the burning skin beneath. He tried to concentrate on the way Scout nipped at his jaw before kissing him soundly on the lips again, enticing Sniper to open his mouth and deepen the kiss.

It was all going so fast though. Things were so hot, so _warm_. And his heart just wouldn’t stop _fucking drumming_ up against his chest.

Still, Sniper tried to keep up, far too stubborn to tell Scout he’d rather not do this tonight. They’d done this so many times before, why would he _suddenly_ feel so different?

It was just an overreaction.

He felt Scout’s nimble hands at his shirt, unbuttoning it as quickly as he was able to and to reciprocate Sniper tugged Scout’s t-shirt over his head, creating a little break between kissing as Scout took the time to sit up and throw the cloth to the side, clearly more than a little eager.

Sniper took a deep breath, focussing on Scout’s weight on his middle as he straddled him, the weight of his hands returning to his chest and the weight of his lips once again claiming Sniper’s for themselves. He needed things to keep him grounded, subtle things to remind Sniper that _this_ was reality.

But for _some_ reason that fact made his heart sink deeply. Those familiar hands didn’t feel comfortable anymore, in fact all this touching and kissing and _grinding _was making Sniper’s head swim and before he knew it his breath subtle picked up.

It started out innocent enough; shaking hands as they tugged at Scout’s pants, heart still beating like it was trying to escape Sniper’s very own body and the slightest hints of nausea stirring in his gut, but nothing more, nothing he couldn’t handle.

Yet it wasn’t until Scout hands descended and started tugging at Sniper’s belt that his heart actually jolted and he felt himself stiffen up. His breathing had picked up tremendously now as Scout got the belt out of the way and popped the button of his pants open, hands shaking uncontrollably as they felt around Scout’s back, nausea kicking up tremendously and actually making him feel sick as he tried so hard to hold on.

He felt like screaming, _fighting_, felt like this whole entire thing was going to break him.

He actually felt like he was going to _die_.

And then it hit him, then finally things made sense. Sniper was having a panic attack.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rather quick update... don't get used to it
> 
> Also, to quickly make some shameless promotion; you can both find yrwrites and myself on Tumblr! (yrwrites under the same name and myself as snoezibol-ao3!) 
> 
> Anyway, I'd like to ask one minute of silence for my friend yrwites now... good luck with fixing this one buddy
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
-Snoezibol


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really starts very heavy, so please respect the trigger warnings and don't proceed if you so much as think you'll be effected.   
This chapter contains: pedophilia, child molestation, child abuse, implied rape, violence

“Come on now Mickey, you’ve got to stay quiet. You don’t want your parents to find out, right? It’s your fault after all that I’m like this.”

A tearstained face accompanied a young boy’s body frozen in place, while sounds of familiar voices talking and laughing were to be heard in the far distance. Family gatherings were the worst, filled with stress and nervousness and Gary never seemed to miss one.

“You’ve got to stop crying now. You’re making me feel like I’m doing something wrong. Are you trying to shift the blame on me while you’re the one who spilled your water on your shirt, making it go see through? Now I’m simply trying to help you get changed, that’s what I promised your sweet mother after all.”

Large hands started to pull open every button slowly as little Mick couldn’t do anything but let thick tears run over his cheeks and whimper. Gary was getting more and more confident doing things like this, considering he used to only _approach _Mick when they were completely alone. As of lately however he seemed to not mind having a possible _audience_, having no problem making Mick uncomfortable during visits or other moments when they weren’t completely alone.

“Please…”

With a voice as small and frightened as Mick’s was at that moment, it was difficult for him to even be able to hear himself. His small body was shivering and shaking as his heart seemed to want to beat out of his chest, which was heavily moving up and down as his breathing quickened.

“Please… what? Please don’t tell your parents that you did this on purpose? That you’re constantly provoking me, because that’s what you’re doing isn’t it? Provoking me? Your parents would be very mad if they knew what you were doing to me, what you were making me do. How do you think they’d react? Would they scold you? Punish you? Abandon you? Better keep quiet right Mickey, that way you don’t _have_ to find out.”

Gary opened up the last button on Mick’s shirt, pushing it off of his small frame and tossing it onto the ground.

“Calm down a little, okay. Your chest is moving so fast I’m worried your lungs might give out.”

Gary placed his hand on Mick’s chest, making him flinch and move back a little bit, but Gary quickly moved forward to close the distance Mick desperately tried to create between them. His eyes were locked on Mick’s small frame while walking forward even more, forcing Mick to walk back as well until he felt his back bump into a wall opposite of his bedroom door, right next to his closet. Mick felt his heart skip a beat once he realised he had nowhere to run to. A chill ran down his spine, eyes closing as a reflex when Gary started to unbutton Mick’s pants and let it drop to the floor after which he took a small step back and just stared for half a minute.

“Hmm, just can’t get enough of that sight. I wonder how long we have still until people will start to question what’s taking us so long.”

Gary moved one hand to caress Mick’s cheek while letting the other one roam the rest of his body.

“Better get on with it, shall we. We wouldn’t want to be interrupted would we?”

Soft cries of protest left Mick’s lips as he shivered while trying desperately to push Gary away from him, but his small shape was no match for the big, strong figure that was his uncle Gary. Gary grabbed Mick’s hands and forced them together as he used his other hand to grab the waistband of Mick’s underwear and tugged it down in one swift movement. He roughly pulled Mick forward a little which caused him to step out of his pants and underwear, than roughly pushed him back forcing his bare backside to collide with the cold wall again, moving forward himself far enough for his own body to touch Mick’s just barely.

Mick hadn’t given up fighting back just yet, trying with all his might to get his hands loose, which he was successful at after trying to wiggle and move around as much as he could. He was able to free one of his hands which he immediately used to push his uncle away again, trying to create a distance between the two of them once more. A quick glance up had Mick frightened even more as he saw Gary’s facial expression change in the blink of an eye. He was getting extremely annoyed with Mick’s resistance and right now was the first time Mick had tried to fight back as much as he was, so he wasn’t sure how Gary was going to react.

“Come on now Mickey, stop trying to push me away. It’s not funny anymore and you know it’s not going to work anyway.”

Gary was now talking through his teeth, sounding like he was trying to hide exactly how irritated he was getting _and_ failing, which was making Mick feel even more nervous, however he very well realised what would happen if he didn’t resist anymore, so he chose to try and keep up his fight.

“STOP IT!”

The harsh sound of a smack in the face started a short silence in which Mick’s eyes grew bigger and started watering as he stared at the ground. He wasn’t going to win this battle, he knew that beforehand yet didn’t want to admit it to himself, but receiving a slap kind of woke him up to the reality of this situation. Gary was going to do whatever he wanted with Mick anyway and he obviously wasn’t put off by using violence to get there, so what was the point in trying to stop him.

“You guys were gone for quite some time. Did you have a hard time finding a nice shirt for Mick to replace the dirty one?”

Bonnie smiled softly at Gary, who sheepishly grinned back, nodding his head while Mick immediately ran towards his mother and buried his face in her dress.

“That as well, but we also ran into some trouble when Mick stumbled and fell while running a bit too fast and smacked his cheek into a wall. He quickly got up again, but I wanted to make sure he was alright so I kept asking if he was feeling okay for quite some time before we actually started seeking a nice shirt to replace the old one. Your son’s a big boy though, Bonnie, because he didn’t want to admit that it hurt and fought off his forming tears like a real man.”

Bonnie stroked Mick’s hair as she crouched down to get a better look at her son’s face. She examined the slightly red cheek carefully while wearing a concerned look on her face, softly petting Mick’s cheek before pulling him closer into a hug.

“Oh sweety, you’ve got to be more careful. I imagine that must have hurt quite a bit. Do you have a headache, darling? Are you feeling okay?”

Mick had to fight really hard to push back the fresh tears that were forming behind his eyes. He both did and didn’t want his mother to worry, which made this situation all the more difficult. His throat felt dry so instead of speaking Mick simply shook his head in response while holding on to his mother even tighter. Her warm embrace and familiar, sweet smell slightly helped him to calm down and try to forget what had just happened.

Only slightly.

\--

“Sniper?! Snipes, are you okay?! What’s happening?!”

Scout’s voice sounded distant, or rather like Sniper was under water hearing the faint noises of someone yelling from outside the water, while not being able to help him out of there and prevent him from drowning. His ears were ringing as his entire body was shaking uncontrollably. His breathing had picked up so fast that he was now hyperventilating and desperately trying to fight for air at the same time, hurting his lungs so bad that he felt tears prick in his eyes.

Sniper noticed that his body was producing a lot of sweat as well, as if every last drop of water inside his body was trying desperately to get off of a sinking ship. As a result of him losing a lot of fluids his mouth felt dry as a desert, making his throat feel hoarse which also prevented him from bringing out more than just some whimpers and pained sounds.

All of the sounds surrounding him were starting to die down until it felt like he couldn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat drumming loudly in his ears. Sniper’s vision suddenly started to slowly go black as his head felt very light all of a sudden and at once he was very afraid that this could possibly be his last moment on earth and that he would die right here and now with his chest bare and his pants unbuttoned.

His sight had cropped to tunnel vision as he saw a concerned Scout’s lips move without the sound reaching his ears, after which he ran out of his sight, leaving Sniper all alone in a room that started to grow tighter and tighter with every passing second.

Was he going to pass out? Was he on the verge of dying? Sniper wasn’t sure about anything anymore. All he could tell was that he could feel his heart beat in his throat and his chest expand and shrink at such a quick rate that it caused a sharp, stinging pain, making him feel like he’d rather die quickly right now, than having to feel this painful feeling any longer anymore.

\--

Sniper opened his eyes to be greeted by a harsh white beam of light causing him to immediately close them again. His brain had been a little slow to catch up as he suddenly realised he could hear voices in the room again and didn’t hear his ears ringing anymore nor did he hear his own heartbeat drum like a madman. The second thing he realised was that he was properly laying in the bed instead of his previous position of having been pushed on top of the bed, which let him towards his final conclusion. Sniper had fainted.

A weird gush of shame went through his body once he understood that was what had happened. He quickly opened his eyes again to see Medic hover over him, his glasses standing on the tip of his nose as he wore a crooked smile the moment he saw Sniper open his eyes again.

“Back in the land of the living I see.”

Medic pushed his glasses further onto his nose as he removed himself from Sniper’s immediate surroundings, making place for another face to pop up above him, showing both nervousness and happiness in his smile as his big, slightly watery eyes tried their best to only show happiness and push away the fright he’d had.

Scout quickly moved his face even closer towards Sniper’s as he threw his arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

“You scared me to death, I didn’t know what to do. I thought you were having a heart attack or something like that.”

Sniper placed his arm around Scout’s shoulders to hug him back. His arm felt heavy and stiff, as if he’d been lifting weights that were far too heavy for him to try and impress someone and now had to deal with the backlash.

“I’m sorry.”

Sniper muttered it so softly that he wasn’t quite sure anyone had heard it. He was suddenly taken over by a strange feeling of guilt even though he wasn’t completely sure why and couldn’t help but feel the need to apologize. He blamed the odd feeling on being tired however as he felt exhaustion expand over his entire body, which surely wasn’t all that weird once he realised it had become morning by now.

“Have you been up all night?”

Sniper’s voice sounded raspy and a bit damaged as he looked at Scout who immediately nodded.

“Of course I have. After you passed out I was so worried about you I wouldn’t even have been able to sleep if I wanted to. I was scared shitless thinking about all the things that could possible happen to you if I wasn’t paying attention for as much as a second.”

Scout relaxed his previously furrowed brows and replaced his furthermore neutral looking face with a big toothy smile that showed off his buckteeth and dimples.

“I’m so happy to see those beautiful grey eyes again.”

Scout’s last sentence was whispered more than not as it was only supposed to reach Sniper’s ears. It was such a cheesy thing to say yet it warmed Sniper’s heart and immediately made him feel ten times better. He struggled around in the bed a little until he managed to sit up, moving towards Scout and pecking him on the lips.

“I’m very glad to see those wonderful blue lookers again as well, Roo.”

\--

“You’re back much quicker than I expected.”

Medic was glancing over his glasses again as he looked at Sniper while his chin was rested on his folded fingers. The early morning sun was spilling true the blinds of Medic’s office making Sniper squint his eyes to not get blinded by it.

“Didn’t really plan to, but here I am.”

Medic let out a little chuckle before properly looking at Sniper to examine his further physical condition. Except for the usual bags under Sniper’s eyes looking even bigger and more purple than normally, he didn’t seem to view any major physical derogations at first sight.

“Hyperventilating, extensive sweating, rapid heartrate, were there any other symptoms you were experiencing? Did you have pains anywhere? How was your vision? Anything like that.”

Sniper deemed it funny how even though Medic was still himself, asking a zillion questions at once, it was clear that even he was effected by the early hours and could have used some more sleep before this _examination_. Suppressed yawns, bags underneath his eyes and constant blinking were the main evidence of his sleepiness and it actually made him look quite normal oppose to his habitual overactive conversations and thoughts.

“Euhm, let’s see. At a certain point breathing hurt and at the same time it felt like all the air was sucked out of the room and I felt like I was drowning, so my lungs were hurting. My vision tightened, it turned into tunnel vision and it seemed to grow smaller and smaller with every passing second and at the same time I couldn’t hear anything or anyone anymore except for my own heartbeat that was drumming loudly into my ear. I felt like every drop of water inside my body was fleeing and that I was going to get dehydrated. My throat was very dry and hoarse as well which you can hear in my voice a little still. I think that’s about it.”

Medic nodded his head strongly as he had once again grabbed the notebook from the last consult and started writing down something. He looked up at Sniper for a second, back at what he’d written and finally back at Sniper.

“Okay, so as you could probably guess, you were experiencing a panic attack. Have you ever had a similar experience before? Maybe as a kid or after a certain occurrence? Some people for example are sensitive to panic attacks in their early childhood, but _grow out of them_ when they grow older and sometimes people experience them after the loss of a loved one or when they learn that a family member is very ill or other situations similar to those.”

Sniper knew for a fact that he’d experienced similar feeling before when he was younger, but he couldn’t exactly tell Medic that without him wanting to know the reason, which Sniper obviously couldn’t explain, so instead he simply shook his head and waited for the next series of questions to leave Medic’s lips.

“Can you explain to me exactly how it started, the panic attack that is? I mean I can very well guess what you were doing, or rather going to do before it started. You were very close to being naked after all and Scout nearly lost his pants in the hallway as he came to get me, so I don’t really need any details on that. Was there a situation which might have triggered the attack and how do you feel the attack started? How did the symptoms start? What did you feel?”

At any other moment Sniper would have felt embarrassed knowing people found him passed out while half naked, Scout being nearly naked as well so people could put two and two together, but right now he was simply too tired, too exhausted to be able to feel even somewhat embarrassed about the situation.

“I guess I felt a little nervous at first, but I just assumed that was excitement, guess that’s how it started. I have no idea why it happened though, not like I could have been triggered by anything to be honest.”

Sniper was actually telling the truth there. He had no idea why the hell he got a panic attack or why he was feeling so anxious and nervous at the start at all. After all it wasn’t exactly their first time doing this, hell it would have been explainable still if they only did it once in a blue moon, but they actually did it quite often and he’d never experienced even a slight bit of doubt or stress before during or after. They were two healthy, grown man who enjoyed each other’s touch like a normal couple would, so for Sniper to freak out like this was very odd. He simply couldn’t explain why it happened.

“Now, we could always seek the reason for your panic attack in those sleeping pills I gave you. I’ve never really heard of someone experiencing a panic attack after taking a sleeping pill once, but nothing is impossible. There are two options right now. We could simply say that you stop taking the pills or we could do a little experiment to actually test if the pills had something to do with it, meaning you’d just keep taking the pills and we wait to see if you experience another attack. The choice is yours of course.”

Sniper’s mind was made up fairly quick as he remembered how well rested he’d been after using those sleeping pills once. He didn’t want to go back to not being able to fall asleep and constantly waking up at night.

“I wouldn’t mind experimenting a bit.”

\--

Sniper had wandered back to Scout’s room to find him waiting there. As soon as he pushed the door further open he was met with a quick hug as Scout buried his face in Sniper’s chest.

“Oh Roo, don’t do that. I must smell so bad from all the sweating. I probably feel a bit damp too.”

Scout didn’t seem to care about the smell as he held on a little longer and a little tighter, before letting go and taking a step back, showing a soft little smile around his lips.

“You actually do smell. Which is why we should get you to the showers right away.”

Sniper let his vision go past Scout to see two sets of towels and two sets of fresh clothes lying neatly folded on the bed. He didn’t even try to protest, simply smiling back as he realised he could really benefit from a nice, hot shower.

Scout quickly grabbed everything they needed from his bed, than grabbed Sniper’s hand and started leading him towards the showers. Sniper just let it happen, following his lover while lovingly staring at him. The memories of his nervousness and the pains accompanying the panic attack seemed to grow more distant as he right now felt extremely calm and at ease.

They arrived at the showers and Scout started to slowly open Sniper’s now sweat soaked shirt, helping him out of it before turning around and throwing it on a bench. He let Sniper take off the rest of his clothes by himself as he started to take off his own clothes as well. Next they moved towards the showers where Scout started to wash Sniper’s back and after that moved on to the rest of Sniper’s body, while Sniper was shampooing his hair after which he shampooed Scout’s hair as well.

The warm water was rather therapeutic, rinsing of all of the painful feelings and bad memories from before together with the soap and shampoo.

As the two of them got out of the showers and were dressed once again, Scout quickly ran to his room to drop the towels and dirty clothes and told Sniper to go on ahead to the kitchen already and that he’d meet him there, so Sniper did.

As he walked into the kitchen, the only other person there was Demo. Sniper moved towards the counter and grabbed himself a cup of coffee as he nodded a friendly nod.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning to you too, lad. You look a lot better than you did earlier. How are you feeling?”

Sniper took a sip from his coffee as he let out a little chuckle. Of course Demo had seen him in his sorry state as well, everybody probably had, but the way he spoke made it seem like nothing more than a distant memory that they could laugh about now.

“Refreshed, the shower really did wonders.”

“Glad to hear that, lad. Better question, how is Scout’s ego doing. Must hurt to know that your lover starts to panic the moment he sees you naked.”

Demo let out a loud laugh and Sniper couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as well as he watched his friend wipe away a tear from laughing with his own joke so much.

“No honestly, do you know the reason why you panicked? Could Medic tell you anything useful?”

“Nah, not really. At least no certainties, might have been the sleeping pills, though, but he wasn’t sure about that.”

The moment those words left Sniper’s lips he realised exactly what he’d said and also that he couldn’t take them back anymore. Demo’s eyes grew bigger than narrowed as he looked at his friend with a questioning expression.

“Sleeping pills? What sleeping pills? You said they were painkillers.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this chapter. Just a disclaimer: I felt very uncomfortable writing the first part of this chapter and Sniper deserves all the love and hugs in the world because our boy went/is still going through A LOT.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
There is a molestation scene at the end of this chapter so please be aware of that! Also there's minor blood mention at some point and descriptions of depression, but that should be it!

“Mate?” Far too focused on taking a drag from the cigarette hanging from his lips, Mick didn’t notice his friend calling out to him and trying to get his attention. It was only until someone smacked his shoulder that he got dragged back to reality and away from the whirlwind inside his head. “Oi Mick, you listening?”

He turned his head towards his friend, giving a shallow nod before muttering a silent apology. He hadn’t meant to get lost in thought like that, needless to say however, by this point his friends had gotten used to that.

They did this more often, Mick and three of his friends sneaking off during the last class of the day to go smoke in some abandoned little shack some time away from school property. It was a secluded little spot, some old thing people had abandoned a long time ago and now it’s only purpose was to hide these fifteen year olds away as they enjoyed their few minutes of mischief and misbehaviour.

And it wasn’t as if anyone really cared anyway, at least they’d never been caught doing it.

“I swear mate, Kelly was giving you that look again today.” Mick’s brow furrowed deeply as his friend remarked his previous comment, back straightening a little to pay better attention to the conversation at hand.

“Kelly?” He asked cautious, working himself through the fog inside his head to try and remember that name.

“Ah, come on, don’t act like you haven’t noticed!” One of the boys answered with a laugh, smoke escaping his mouth in thick plumes, the sunlight lighting up his face where it peaked through the cracks and tears in the wooden walls. “Ever since you got so bloody _tall_, girls have been eying you up like fucking crazy.”

“Yeah!” Another one of his friends joined, coyly hitting Mick in the shoulder to empathize their point. “You should totally ask her out, mate.”

A scoff escaped Mick as he leaned back again, meanwhile taking another drag from his cigarette and looking so extremely tired while doing it. Girls suddenly liking him hadn’t exactly been the _only_ change in his life caused by him getting so much taller so suddenly, but those were details. “No thank you.”

If Mick had to be honest, dating was the absolute last thing to be on his mind. He couldn’t exactly wrap his head around the idea of it alone, didn’t understand what seemed so fun about investing emotional time in something that’s going to end up hurting you anyway. The thought alone left Mick feel a little more than just uneasy, in all honesty, it made him feel suffocated and stressed, which only lead to the one emotion Mick never had quite managed to outrun throughout all his life; shame.

Why would you ever desire another person like that? Why would you ever allow someone to get _that_ close?

“Ah Mick you’re the worst! You basically have girls throwing themselves at your feet and you don’t even notice nor even seem to care!” Mick only shrugged at that, proving his friends’ point even further as he softly sighed out, tipping the ashes off of his cigarette before focusing his gaze onto something else.

How were things like this so casual and _easy_ to his friends yet felt like a fucking turmoil to him?

In loads of ways, it just wasn’t fucking fair, yet Mick simply couldn’t find the energy to care about things like that anymore. Truth was that he was so fucking tired all the time, painfully lacking motivation to do anything that it was a surprise that he even bothered to show up for school.

And to many exactly that made him seem like a calm individual minding his own business, but deep down inside Mick was just so fucking _miserable_.

It didn’t take long for his friends to find another topic to gush about, which only lead to Mick zoning out completely as he stared through a rather sizable crack in the wall at the beautiful day the outside was having at that moment. Watching the grass blow in the wind and the land being painted in these golden colours as he finished the remainders of his cigarette actually allowed him some peace, allowed him a moment outside of the minefield that was his own mind and into this moment where he heard his friends laugh about all kinds of idiotic things. It did such a good job distracting him, he barely even noticed one of his friends, minutes later, hastily coaxing him to get his ass moving because class was about to end and they _needed_ to be on school property.

And it was a Friday too, which meant they all had the weekend to enjoy soon.

Mick waved a last goodbye to his friends after their last bell rung, trying to get away from school as quickly as he possibly could after hearing everyone talk about a party happening that night and _actually_ noticing Kelly looking like she was about to ask him a question and he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with something like that. The thing was, however, that Kelly seemed to be a lovely person; she was kind, clever, had a pleasant voice to listen to and Mick had to admit that she _was_ someone that had caught his attention before.

And somewhere he found himself not really _minding_ her wanting to talk to him.

But that didn’t matter, because there was always something _else_ within Mick that convinced himself that giving things like that a chance would bite him in the ass, would hurt, would make him feel so much worse than he already was feeling. He wasn’t ready for things like that and somewhere he was convinced he never would be, but he could deal with the dire feeling of being alone, after all he only ever spend most of his time inside his own head angry and upset, yet things like fear and frustration where emotions that were slowly burning up his patience, something he found himself unable to handle less over time.

And how could he ever share his life with someone if he was barely able to understand his own emotions, let alone handle them?

How was he ever supposed to separate emotions when all he truly felt was shame?

So when he noticed Kelly making an attempt at approaching him, he simply looked out her way, smiled briefly and gave her a friendly nod, before turning the corner and starting his _long_ walk home.

\--

Mick had to admit that there was something therapeutic to coming home, because the moment he strolled onto the large property with the sun pleasantly beating overhead and the wind carrying the earth into the evening, a total of five different dogs had a tendency to storm out his way, just to great him.

And it was about the best thing in his entire life.

The first to actually reach him was Max, a spicy little Jack Russell Terrier with a golden heart and a healthy obsession for rat hunting, his true purpose on the farm. He was mostly white with a big brown spot on his left ear that blead into the fur of his countenance and surrounded his left eye as well. Max also had a rather sizable scar on the side of his chubby body, an imprint from a few months ago where one of the sheep had kicked him tremendously hard, yet here the tough little bugger was alive and well.

Following were the two German Shepherds Charly and Craig. They were brother and sister and basically inseparable. His father had bought them about four years ago to train them as guard dogs to protect their farm. They sure had a mean bite, his father had done a good job training them, but to Sniper these two were sweethearts and actual goofballs.

Maggie was the next dog to show up, a border collie who’d been at his father’s side for about seven years now. She was a calm and composed dog, an individual that held a lot of poise and demeanour which was very evident in the way she walked up to him and pressed her head against his hand in a familiar gesture. Mick had grown quite fond of her over the years, but he’d always been aware that she was his father’s dog through and through. There was no one or nothing more important to Maggie than his father.

Lastly there was Lola. Mick couldn’t help but smile at the way she slowly left the porch, cautiously moved to see what was happening, only to burst with sudden happiness as she noticed him and ran out his way as well.

God he loved that dog so much.

Lola was an American Staffordshire Terrier he and his father had found alongside the road only about a year ago. She’d clearly been abandoned and it had taken Mick and his parents some time to get her comfortable and to simply get her to realise that she was safe with them and ever since, she’d gotten so attached to him, he could barely move around the house without her following his every move. She slept in his bed, laid at his chair whenever he was eating, loved joining whenever he went outside and Mick had found that she generally always perfectly knew when to show up. She had no real purpose on the farm, but she’d sure been an asset to Mick’s own wellbeing.

At times where Mick felt like nothing more than a ghost with a beating heart, Lola had proved to be a great distraction. Given her dire background, Lola had needed a lot of effort and attention being put into her and to Mick’s own surprise that had proven to be a great distraction, a way to keep him a bit sane and a way to show him how to take care of not only her, but himself as well.

“Hi love,” Mick said sweetly, scratching her behind her ear as she nudged her entire face into his leg, her silly little and brute way of showing love. Though as she did that, she stretched her neck out only for Mick to notice a cut. One of his eyebrows rose as he took a look at it, holding her head so she wouldn’t end up possibly hurting herself more by being clumsy. “Did Charly and Craig rough you up again?” He asked after determining the cut wasn’t anything too bad and stroking a hand through the short fur on her back to get rid of some dirt, now looking into Lola’s big brown eyes. The laugh that escaped him had been involuntarily, but god he could basically hear the elevator music play as he looked at her.

It was so pure and the way she was wagging her tail with utmost enthusiasm had Mick nearly believe Lola actually cared for him that much.

It was nice. Real nice.

Eventually Mick finally made a move to go inside. He walked in, two dogs following suit as he entered the kitchen where his mother was stood cutting up potatoes and vegetables and only noticing her son walking in when Charly tried to get a view of what exactly she was doing and Lola accidentally bumped into her.

“Sweetheart tell these ladies to get out of the kitchen, please.” There was a smile on her face as she asked that and Mick knew she wasn’t exactly annoyed with the dogs, but she didn’t need the audience while she was cooking dinner and he understood that.

“Lola, Charly, out. Now.” He pointed a finger towards the door, voice stern which had the dogs understanding the demand in an instant, now leaving to go terrorize the other dogs in the garden.

His mom smiled up at him heartedly, thanking him before continuing her work cutting up potatoes. Though as Mick smiled back at her and passed his mother to go put his stuff away, he stopped dead in his tracks as she suddenly spoke up again; “You’re smelling like cigarettes _again_, love.”

Mick held his breath as he turned around in time to see his mother shift her gaze away from the food before her to look at her son again, expression that kind of unreadable that always managed to get Mick a little nervous.

He scratched at his neck, remembering the ten million other speeches his mom had given him about smoking before. This wasn’t exactly the first time he’d come home smelling like a bar and he sure knew it wasn’t going to be his last.

“Do I?” Mick tried, somehow believing the input of tasteless humour would help his case.

“You do.” She said pointedly, but her expression wasn’t matching the colour of her voice, because as Mick looked back at the sweet little woman before him, he saw _worry_ in her eyes. He saw an expression that looked at him as if she was trying to figure something out, wonder why her son had picked up smoking at the age of fifteen, as if she actually believed for a moment there that maybe her son wasn’t doing so well, that maybe it was something _more_ than trying to act cool and tough with friends.

But it was only an expression and only a guess really, a paranoid and perhaps even yearning guess from Mick.

But he was aware that it was unfair to sit and wait for other people to have that bastard of a puzzle fall into place.

“Promise me that you’re only smoking cigarettes and nothing… _else_.” She asked and Mick shook his head quickly, expression morphing into something a little more determined, trying to show his mom that it was just _innocent_, just a way to… relax.

His mom sighed softly, shoulders shagging for a single second. “Love, don’t forget that you’re still fifteen, alright? It’s not because you grew taller so suddenly that you’re an adult all of a sudden.” He could tell that she was trying to be somewhat light hearted about it, but _fuck_ people really couldn’t stop mentioning his growing spurt, could they?

“Yeah no, I know..” He muttered as an empty response, eyes barely making the gesture to look at her. He knew it was ridiculous to promise her certain things at this point anymore and Mick was well aware that she knew that too. So he just apologized the same way he always did and watched his mom’s expression light back up.

“It’s alright, love.” She said, eyes still filled with that same worry as before, but neither would mention, neither ever did. “Go and put your stuff away, dinner will be ready in an hour I believe.”

He nodded, turning himself back around to leave the kitchen, but not before he heard his mother say one last thing.

“Mickey?”

“Yeah?”

It was quiet for a bit and Mick could tell that she was stalling for a single moment. However, eventually she relented. “Don’t forget that I love you very much, okay?”

“I won’t.” Mick replied easily, giving his mother a soft smile, nervous, but soft, before disappearing from the kitchen and going to his room.

\--

Later that evening, after dinner, Mick had told his parents that he’d be going to bed earlier. As off lately his sleeping pattern had been anything but consistent and he felt just as physically tired as he was mentally, which lead him to believe he’d actually be able to sleep now.

And he wouldn’t pass up that opportunity.

He was sat on his bed with Lola between his legs, tending to that cut on her neck before going to sleep. Charly and Craig were also in his room, laid together on the rug besides his bed, already vast asleep.

It was that kind of pleasantly silence where he could hear Craig and Charly’s breathing and shuffling in their sleep, could hear _Lola’s_ breathing as he cleaned out the cut on her neck. It wasn’t exactly silent, but it was calm.

He did a last wipe down of the wound, before patting her side to move her buttocks out of the way so he could leave the bed to throw the few supplies gathered on his sheets away. He tried suppressing a yawn as he got up, but the moment he returned, laid himself down and felt Lola squeeze herself between him and the wall he was just _gone_. The moment his head hit that pillow and his arm gestured out to pet Lola’s back, his lights went out and he was asleep.

It wasn’t until perhaps two hours later that Mick awoke abruptly again. His heart had jumped into his throat well before he’d opened his eyes at the feeling of someone half looming over his bed. It was an automatic reaction really, as an answer to a situation that made adrenaline course through his veins and the stress inside his drowsy mind sky rocketed.

He _really_ just didn’t like it when someone did that.

“Mick?” It took him a bit to recognize his dad’s voice and another moment for his body to get out of panic mode and for him to relax before finally looking up at his dad. He felt Lola shift at his side as he sat up, groggily asking his dad what was going on and what time it was, only to spot the clock hanging on his wall and for him to see that it was barely past twelve am.

He shook his head lightly, already more alert given that this wasn’t exactly something his dad did often. “W-what’s wrong?”

A soft smile rested on his dad’s face as the man shook his head. “There isn’t anything wrong, but I do need your help. I just got a phone call from your uncle Gary.“ Already Mick’s heart doubled its rhythm, just by hearing that name alone. His eyes averted for a moment, afraid where this was leading too. “One of his cows went into labour about an hour ago, but she’s having complications, so it’ll have to be done by a caesarean section and I need your assistance with that.”

Mick could only sigh, really. His father was a rather well known veterinarian in their province. A lot of the neighbouring farms had his father employed for yearly check-ups, sick or injured animals and for moments like these. And usually indeed, Mick joined his dad whenever he could given that he himself had a rather big interest in animals and becoming a vet really hadn’t sounded bad.

But right now Mick wished he’d never shown any interest at all, whished he basically hadn’t become his father’s assistant, because how could he say no to this?

It had been _a moment_ since the last time he’d seen his uncle and Mick had been completely fine with that. That man always made him nervous, even when he wasn’t around and he had his reasons for that. The fucker all but ruined his life.

“We have to leave as soon as we can, so get up, get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs, alright?”

Mick gave a shallow nod, trying to mask his discomfort with the situation as his dad gave him a strong pat on the shoulder before thanking him and leaving the room.

It took Mick less than five minutes to pull on his clothes and pat Lola, Charly and Craig on the head before he appeared downstairs, quiet and nervous. His mom had already gone to bed according to his dad as he quickly scribbled down a note to inform his wife where they were in the off chance she’d wake up in the upcoming hours.

It was a sweet little gesture, Mick had to admit and it served as a little distraction from the dire things he was experiencing right now, but once that was done and they climbed into the car to leave to his uncle’s farm his stress was quickly reaching a boiling point.

His hands were shaking, that leading into a slight tremble seizing up all the muscles in his limbs. He felt hot and cold at the same time and his gut stirred with nausea, everything about him hyperaware that every minute passed, was another mile closer to that wretched farm.

God he hated it so fucking much, he needed to calm down. So Mick started to reason with himself. His dad was with him, wasn’t he? What was uncle Gary going to do, what could the bastard do? Absolutely nothing, that’s what! Mick was only there to help his dad and once that calf was born and the cow was deemed to be doing a okay, he and his dad would leave again. Nothing more, nothing less.

A good thirty minutes later, the farm finally drew into sight and despite the strong arguments Mick had managed to feed himself during the trip, he still felt like puking the moment his father drove onto the property.

He felt anxious and sick and the moment his uncle appeared into view, that same fucking _cockiness_ to him, Mick believed he was about to faint.

“Go get some of my supplies out of the back, I’m going to talk to your uncle real quick.” Mick nodded and did what his dad asked him to do and after some stalling and unnecessarily double checking to make sure he had everything they needed, Mick straightened his posture and walked up to where his dad and uncle were having their conversation.

He felt so little, so fragile as he looked up and made eye contact with his uncle. Despite his growth spurt, his uncle still appeared taller than him and Mick had to admit that taller people always left him nervous.

And they still did to this day.

“Good. Alright Gary, where’s the cow?”

His uncle gestured his head a certain way before starting to walk. He lead them to a more secluded stable where the cow stood, making distressed noises as she moved around restlessly, a clear sign that they had to _hurry up_.

“Is this her first time giving birth?” His father asked Gary, meanwhile motioning for Mick to tend to the cow. He nodded, quickly moving over to her to hold onto the halter so she’d stop moving around. He pet her head slowly and softly, trying to sooth her as best as possibly while his dad got his supplies ready.

“Yeah,” His uncle gave as a delayed answer. He just stood there, not really offering much. “she’s also rather heavy, so I guess I should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to do this on her own.”

From where Mick was stood still tending to the cow, he could see his father raise his brow in a sarcastic manner, eyes giving that true expression of ‘_You_ _fucking idiot_’ and it actually made him smile for a second. Because yes, his uncle was a fucking idiot for not realising this breed of cow _always_ needed assistance with giving birth.

What a loser.

“This could’ve been real dangerous, Gary. You’re lucky we were able to show up this quickly.”

His uncle waved dismissively. “Yeah, thanks brother, you’re a saint.”

“Don’t just thank _me_,” His dad started, gesturing his head towards Mick as he tied on a mouth mask and readied a syringe with anaesthesia. “I had to get Mick out of his bed for this one. You better be grateful.”

“That right?” His uncle asked, his tone of voice so _odd_ Mick took a quick look his way, making brief eye contact. There was this kind of unreadable expression on his face and if Mick didn’t get distracted by his father telling him to tie the rope of the halter to one of the poles of the stable, he knew that look would have wormed itself a way inside his head and would worry him to the very core.

But things were moving along quickly and after Mick tied her down, his dad instructed him to come stand beside him now.

“Alright, I’m going to make an incision right here in this abdominal muscle,” His dad spoke as he ghosted his scalpel over the skin. “The calf’s hind hooves will pop out, it’s your job to grab hold of them and pull it out, alright?”

Mick answered with a quick and confident nod, watching his dad now firmly place the scalpel on the cow’s side and drag it down, going through with the procedure knowing he could trust his son. Blood spilled from the open cut now, but it was manageable. From his experience sometimes working along his dad, Mick was aware that from the four different abdominal muscles animals had, only one would and could bleed like a motherfucker and it sure wasn’t this one.

The cut was open enough for the hooves to finally be visible, Mick now doing what was asked of him, grabbing onto the new born calf and steadily starting to pull it out of its mother. Inch per inch the calf was pulled free, meanwhile his dad telling him he was doing great, keep it up, it was nearly there.

“Gary go get towels and a bucket of warm water.” His dad ordered once the calf’s shoulders drew into view and eventually, after another slow pull, its head appeared and the calf was born. Right there it was, bloodied and slimy in Mick’s arms, waiting until his uncle returned with towels, starting to wiping it down carefully while his dad took care of the placenta and closing it all back up.

In the fuss of the moment and while Mick was cleaning the calf, he felt his uncle pat his shoulder and praised him. It felt uncomfortable and made the confidence and pride he’d felt for himself crumble deep inside himself. But he stayed stoic nonetheless, not wanting his uncle to notice anything.

“I really can’t thank you two enough.” Gary said after everything had died down and the cow and its calf seemed to be doing a okay. Meanwhile the clock had already long passed two am and with the euphoria of the moment dying down, the fatigue Mick had felt hours earlier had retuned. He tried to mask his yawns, tried not to show that he was basically falling asleep on the spot because he and his father would leave again very soon anyway, there was no need to draw any attention to his situation.

That was, however, until his uncle _did_ notice and offered something that made Mick’s heart drop right into his stomach.

“Mick you seem real tired, how about you go get some sleep in the guest bedroom?”

It was an innocent offer, just something _nice_ his uncle had come up with, but Mick didn’t trust this man and he felt it in the way his heart started pounding and his hands yet again trembled at his sides.

“That won’t be needed, Gary.” His dad countered quickly and he’d never felt such relieve in his life. “we should head back home.”

But his uncle wouldn’t give up that easily. “Nonsense! You two came all the way here to help me out, it’s late, you’re both tired and I’m not allowing you to drive a car right now. You wouldn’t want to drive yourself right off of the road, now would you Jonathan?”

There was silence for a moment and Mick could see his dad contemplate the offer in his head. Inwardly, he outright _screamed_ at his dad to decline, _begged_ him to just bring him home.

But his whole entire world just shattered once he saw his dad nod his head. He couldn’t be mad at him, and he wasn’t, all he could do was sigh.

\--

It had taken Mick a whole while to get comfortable, or at least somewhere close to it. Anxiety had been an overwhelming factor to keep him from getting some sleep as there was something constantly telling him to look behind himself, not face his back towards the room, to open his eyes again when the feeling of someone watching him crammed itself inside his head.

Not to mention the noises he heard.

There was creaking from wind blowing against the house, old wood shifting and sometimes Mick believed it was because of footsteps. He’d have to shake his head once, twice, still his breathing for him to realise that no, it weren’t footsteps, it was fine. His uncle had gone to sleep right after he and his dad had talked some more and that was that.

There was nothing about to happen, no reason for Mick to stay up this late riddled with paranoia.

And besides it _had_ been a while ever since the last time his uncle had… _done_ something anyway.

First Mick hadn’t understood why all that had suddenly stopped. He’d been around fourteen going on fifteen and suddenly his uncle had stopped visiting, stopped trying during family gatherings, had stopped showing up when his parents just happened to be out of town. Mick hadn’t been quite able to put his finger on it, it’d seemed like it’d happened overnight, but as some more months had passed and everyone around him just _couldn’t stop mentioning it_, Mick had come to realise that the only reason his uncle had stopped what he was doing…

was because of his growth spurt.

It had taken him a solid while to digest that fact. To understand the reason his uncle had so suddenly left him alone was because he’d grown to be so much taller on such short while, Mick guessed he’d lost some of his childish innocence.

And _fuck_ that was just a thought he could never really stomach.

His uncle was a pedophile, there was no going around that and despite being left alone, the consequences of having had to endure that for a good seven years had shown up and every single day Mick felt worse and worse about everything. He’d been living in a blur, mind clouded with shame and anger, somehow only able to blame himself for what had happened, just the same way his uncle had tried to over the years. Maybe he’d been provocative, maybe he’d been pushing it, perhaps he shouldn’t have done some of the things he had, but at the time, Mick had no idea it could lead to something like _that_.

How was spilling water on your shirt as a _child_ something to bother an adult?

He’d been breaking his head over questionnaire like that for as long as he could remember and there had been a point where he thought it to be futile to question it any further. His uncle had told him it was his fault, then it must’ve been his fault.

He was older now, not much, but older. Some things made sense and others remained a dark looming question mark inside his head. It made him feel hatred and annoyance with himself, self-destructive thoughts weren’t unfamiliar to him, but at the end of the day he couldn’t help but shrug.

It had stopped, right? Wasn’t that all he ever wanted?

_Then stop your bloody complaining_.

Mick had been on the verge of finally falling asleep, when suddenly a floorboard audibly creaked. But tired as he was, Mick annoyingly told himself it was once again the wind, forcing him to keep his eyes shut and to finally fall asleep.

But as he suddenly felt a warm hand touch his shoulder and the feeling of someone looming over him, his eyes shot open and his heart was back to hammering in his chest. He tried to turn himself around, to see what was happening and maybe brace himself to actually fight back, but his attempts were futile as he felt a large hand move over his mouth and basically pin him down.

“Calm down, Mickey.” He felt those words being purred into his ear and all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut against the uncomfortable feeling.

What was going on? This wasn’t supposed to happen!

“Relax,” There was something more pressing, more stern in Gary’s voice now as he let his hand roam beneath Mick’s shirt, pushing so he could join him in the tiny bed. “it’s just me, pumpkin. I expected you were going to react a whole lot different than this.”

He tried to struggle, tried to find some way to fight back, but his uncle knew exactly how to react and where to put his hands, rendering Mick immobile. “Shh, quiet down now. You wouldn’t want your dad to hear us, would you?”

It was scary to realise how conditioned he’d become to words like that. Physically he felt his body giving up the fight, felt stress creep into his limbs and muscles because of what his uncle had told him, but mentally every word he wanted to scream out kept echoing inside his head. He demanded himself not to stop the struggle, but it held no use, as if his very own body wasn’t his to use anymore.

He heard his uncle chuckle; “That’s it. Good boy.” before his hand gestured out towards his belt.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this took me so long and I'm tired of looking at it, but I'm going to apologize now because when you read this it means you sat through that entire chapter and it's quite frankly a boring one, but I had no idea how to make it interesting, so yeah, I'm sorry 
> 
> Also sorry to yrwrites, she also had to sit through this, but did it like a champ so probs to her
> 
> Thanks for reading  
-Snoezibol


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In memory of Rick May, a man without whom Soldier wouldn't have been the same character we all love and hold dear. Rest in Piece 🖤

“How is Sniper doing?”

A startled Scout looked up from his bed where he’d just dropped the towels and clothes he’d brought from the showers. The voice he was hearing was probably, no definitely the last voice he was ever expecting to speak those words. Quickly turning around to confirm that the voice in fact belonged to the person Scout rather certainly knew it belonged to, he was met with Spy leaning on the doorframe.

“As if you care about anything that has to do with Sniper.”

Scout proceeded to quickly hang up the towels for them to dry and drop the dirty clothes in his laundry basket. He just wanted to leave fast and go back to Sniper, still a little worried whether he was fully alright after what had happened last night. Scout felt however, that he wasn’t going to be leaving this situation any time soon, feeling Spy’s eyes burn on his back. The silence Spy had left ringing wasn’t going to stay silent for long, Scout knew.

“You’re right, I don’t give a damn about Sniper. However I am a spy, which means I like to know pretty much everything about the people I work with. You could call it a quirk of the trade, I suppose.”

“Yeah, nah. I just call it being nosy. Actually, I’m pretty sure the only reason you’re asking is because you love hearing about it when people hit their low points.”

The stare down between father and son caused a tension that could be cut with a butter knife, a blunt one in fact. It had taken a whole while to finally accept Spy as his dad and in most situations he wouldn’t react this fiercely anymore, but their bond seemed to be tested once again whenever it had anything to do with Sniper.

It was a secret to literally nobody that Sniper wasn’t Spy’s favourite person, and that was putting it lightly. For some reason the Frenchman had pinpointed Sniper as his number one most hated person at base, basically the first day they met and for Sniper to than go ahead and start dating Spy’s son out of all people sure didn’t better his case. To be fair though, Sniper didn’t like Spy either, as one would when being hated for no apparent reason, he simply returned the favour. Arguing, dramatic stare downs, on really bad days the two couldn’t stand to breathe the same air. When one said black, you could be sure as hell the other would say white, which is exactly why Scout couldn’t believe Spy genuinely wondered how Sniper was doing.

“Did you come here because Engie asked you to or something?”

“No, Scout. I came on my own behalf.”

“Why? Why the hell are you here? Why the fuck are you acting like you care?!”

For a second Scout had been surprised by the way he sounded, so agitated and annoyed. Yes, in the past this tented to happen whenever Spy and himself didn’t agree on something, but right now he felt himself get fed up about the situation while he damn well knew he shouldn’t. All Spy asked was whether Sniper was doing better and while that was indeed a very odd question to be coming from Spy’s mouth, there didn’t seem to be any ill intend. Even if the question was originally Engie’s, Scout had no reason to react like someone was provoking him, but even though he knew this and didn’t actually want to seem so agitated, for some reason he couldn’t help it.

“I’m not _acting. _Yes, Sniper might not be my favourite person around and you know my opinion on the two of you, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy seeing him in the state he was in last night. I wouldn’t wish that on any of my teammates.”

A silence took over the room as Scout let his sight drop to the floor for a second. He felt a little embarrassed about the way he’d reacted, knowing very well that even though Spy could be a dick sometimes, he wasn’t a complete asshole. As he felt his father examine him with his eyes, Scout couldn’t get himself to look at Spy, so he simply didn’t.

“Besides, he’s dating my son… and since I _actually_ care about my son, _sometimes_ I can push myself to also care about the people _he_ cares about, even if I don’t really like them all that much.”

Scout let out a little sigh as if he’d finally decided to let the agitation go, after which he looked at his dad again, head still held down.

“Have you slept at all last night? The bags underneath your eyes have grown bags themselves and you look a little pale.”

A slight shake off the head and another small sigh were enough for Spy to put two and two together and understand why Scout had been reacting so heavily. He was probably exhausted and Spy hated seeing his son like this.

“Of course I haven’t. I was worried sick all night, couldn’t even get to sleeping if I wanted to. Listen, dad I actually really just want to get back to Sniper now. He seemed fine after we took a shower, but I’m still quite worried, he could just be keeping up a façade, acting tougher than he is and I just want to be with him right now, so…”

Spy gave a quick nod after which he moved away from the doorframe he’d been leaning on earlier and stepped aside so Scout could pass him. As Scout passed his dad to leave and get on his way to the kitchen, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder blade giving him a little pat on the back. He paused his pace for a split second and just let himself enjoy this small act of kindness for a mere second, before continuing his walk.

“Oh, Scout. Do try to get some rest today. It’s Saturday after all and you look like shit.”

Scout rolled his eyes while a soft little smirk appeared around his lips. Of course his dad had to go ahead and say something asshole like after being nice. He had to stay in character after all, couldn’t have people thinking he’d grown soft.

“Apparently I got my looks from my dad, so…”

Having said that, Scout left Spy and his room behind to go find Sniper in the kitchen and hopefully finally have some breakfast, which his stomach was crying for.

\--

“Sleeping pills? What sleeping pills? You said they were painkillers.”

Demo’s distinct voice reached Scout’s ears and immediately he had the reflex of holding his breath and hiding away. The kitchen door was open a crack, so when Scout arrived there he was planning on just pushing it open and going inside. He didn’t expect to catch Sniper and Demo’s conversation let alone hear exactly that part and it made him feel like he was snooping around, like he was eavesdropping. He could have easily entered anyway and acted like nothing was wrong, but instead Scout felt the urge to keep hidden a little while longer and hear which direction this conversation was going to take.

Scout was sure Sniper had probably just misspoken when telling Demo those pills where pain killers. After all, when you’re sleep deprived sometimes it’s difficult to be focused one hundred percent all the time, so it wouldn’t surprise Scout that Sniper had just been tired that day and mixed up his words.

“Did I say sleeping pills? Well isn’t that just odd. I obviously meant pain pills. I’m sorry Demo, it’s been a long night, I guess I’m more worn out than I thought I was.”

An extremely small and silent little gasp escaped from Scout’s mouth, which he immediately tried to cover up with his hands, once he heard his lover lie this bluntly and seemingly without any effort, as if he’d been doing so for years. His eyes grew bigger as he simply couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, didn’t want to believe that his boyfriend was casually lying to one of his best friends without a single hint of unease in his voice.

“You sure you’re alright, lad? Must be very tired to be mixing up pain killers and sleeping pills.”

Scout could hear a hint off suspicion and a bit off doubt shine through in Demo’s voice. He could tell that Demo wasn’t 100% on board with what Sniper was telling him, even though Sniper had sounded as convincing as possible for someone who was in fact bluntly lying. Scout was honestly wondering why Sniper had decided to lie to Demo about the pills in the first place. Was he perhaps embarrassed about needing pills to help him sleep or something like that? Even though Scout couldn’t really understand how anyone could find something like that to be embarrassing, he did very well know that him not understanding it didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility.

“By the way, how is that hand of yours doing? Is it healing up alright?”

“Oh yeah, it’s doing much better already. Still hurts a bit though, just not all the time anymore.”

“Yeah well, that’s what the pills are for… right? Good thing it doesn’t hurt that much anymore. How did you say it happened again?”

Scout was staring to get intrigued with the amount of doubt Demo was able to push through his voice without making it too noticeable. If he hadn’t known Sniper was lying about this, Scout probably wouldn’t have thought twice about the way Demo was choosing his words during this conversation. Or perhaps Scout was only imagining the doubt he thought to be able to hear in Demo’s voice. Perhaps because he knew Sniper was lying, he desperately wanted somebody else to be questioning Sniper’s behaviour as well.

He was starting to get rather invested in this conversation, wanting to hear if the story Sniper had told him about how his hand got injured, matched with the one he’d told Demo. After all, if Sniper lied about something as stupid as the pills he took, than maybe he could have lied about other things as well. And if they didn’t match up, than which was the correct version? At least Scout knew he heard the correct story about the pills, considering he’d seen the effect they had. Sniper had never slept better than when he started taking those pills and he’d also been sleeping longer and without interruptions, which was probably the only positive point Scout could give them. Slowly and very carefully Scout moved his body so that he could better understand the voices seeping through the cracks of the slightly opened door.

“Hello there, Scout. On your way to the kitchen as well?”

Scout could feel a chill run down his spine as his breathing and heartbeat both quickened within one small second. He’d been focused on the conversation going on in the kitchen so much so that he hadn’t payed any attention to his own surroundings at all. Turning around quickly to see Soldier greet him with a friendly smile and little wave, Scout felt a cold and tingly sensation spread through his body. Solly had a rather loud voice, so him greeting Scout could definitely be heard inside the kitchen, even if the door hadn’t been open a crack. It took him a second or two to regain composure, after which he quickly put on a smile and tried to act as if he’d just arrived at the kitchen door as well.

“Sol, hey. Yeah, I just got here. Told Snipes to go on ahead to the kitchen, so here I am.”

A quirked up eyebrow visible on Solly’s face made Scout experience another chill running through his entire body. He could feel himself get worried as he wondered how long Solly might have been standing there already before he’d decided to say something.

“Oh, Sniper is in the kitchen? How is he doing? Is he feeling better now?”

Sudden relieve took over the runner as he realised that Solly either didn’t see that he had been eavesdropping at the kitchen door, or wasn’t going to bring it up. The latter wasn’t exactly a perfect situation, but if that were to be the case at least he didn’t immediately question Scout about why he’d been standing there and what exactly he was doing. Considering Demo and Sniper were right at the other side of that door, that would have been a very, _very_ uncomfortable situation to be met with.

Solly wondering about Sniper’s wellbeing kind of warmed Scout’s heart though. It’s not so that he simply expected Solly not to care, but the actual act of kindness displayed right in front of him, took Scout by surprise anyway.

“Oh yeah, I do think he’s doing bette-.”

Suddenly the door to the kitchen swung all the way open, causing for a draft to be created. Suddenly Scout could feel a presence stand close behind him, as he could feel some kind of pressure on his back.

“That door isn’t exactly sound proof, you know, so gossiping about me might not be the best idea right now.”

A snicker accompanied Sniper’s voice, who than rested his arms on Scout’s shoulders, hanging over him with a soft smile.

“Can’t go a second without thinking about me can you. You’re going to make me blush you know.”

A low chuckle travelled itself towards Scout’s ears. It made him wonder whether Sniper used this little situation outside the kitchen door as an opportunity to get away from his bigger situation inside the kitchen. After all he seemed rather eager to walk out and interrupt the conversation with Solly, but than again that was simply an assumption Scout had. On the other hand Scout was more than just a tiny bit worried that Sniper might know about his little eavesdropping, or suspect as much at least, since it must be rather suspicious to not hear a single sound come from the hallway to than hear the clear, yet more distant voice of Solly and immediately after hear Scout’s voice which was obviously way closer.

“You’re looking a whole lot better in comparison to last night, Sniper. Not that I’d expected anything else, of course. You couldn’t possibly look much worse than last night after all. I have seen ghosts look more lively than you looked last night.”

“Gosh Solly, now _you_ are going to make me blush. Nothing better than to be compared to the dead this early in the morning. Doing wonders for my self-esteem, I can tell you that much.”

“You’re welcome.”

Solly smiled from ear to ear, clearly being the one who thought his own joke to be the funniest thing in the world as his eyes glistered in happiness. Sniper laughed along a little as well while Scout simply wore a soft smile around his lips. He moved his gaze from Solly towards his boyfriend still hovering over him.

Scout took a moment to examine Sniper’s face, making sure he could see every inch of it. From his defined jawline, sporting his typical 5 o’clock shadow, to his sunken cheeks and rather sharp cheekbones. From his forehead that had been plagued with a bit more than just the occasional wrinkle to his grey eyes that gave away the otherwise rather properly hidden away tiredness Sniper must’ve been battling until now and probably still is battling. Scout’s eyes suddenly fell on Sniper’s hair and after examining it for a little moment, Scout deduced that Sniper must have let it airdry. It looked fluffy and a little spikey as well and Scout always had the urge to run his fingers through it whenever it was in this state. Suddenly Scout felt himself get flustered as Sniper quickly noticed him staring at him and moved his gaze towards the runner, giving him a soft smile and a little wink.

“Are you guys nearly done drowning in each other’s eyes? I thought we all came here for breakfast.”

It seemed like Solly’s words triggered something inside Scout’s body, acting as some kind of a reminder that he in fact was hungry and had been for a while now. He could feel a rumble of hunger build up from deep within his stomach, letting out a loud noise once it’d build up to the max.

“Seems like my stomach’s agreeing with you, Sol. Guess I can’t live off of just love after all. Let’s eat!”

\--

Spy was casually wandering the halls of the base, seemingly strolling without a particular purpose as he suddenly opened a door, only to be met with the back of a working Engineer sitting at his desk. He paused his pace for a little moment standing in the doorframe for a while, seemingly waiting for a response or reaction, after which he took a few steps into the room and closed the door behind him.

“Hello there, Spy.”

“Engineer.”

The room went silent once again as Engineer continued the work spread out in front of him. Blueprint over blueprint was stacked on top off one another, papers scattered around them on which the hardhat was taking notes and making sketches. The lack of interest Engie seemed to display, or was it simply that the work in front of him was deemed more important than Spy’s presence, slightly offended the Frenchman, who stood still, simply staring at Engineer’s back a moment. As Spy realised that he was not going to get Engineer’s attention by simply standing and staring he decided to walk around. Circles, eights, lines from left to right, than right to left, Spy’s feet didn’t take a second to rest, strolling around behind Engie’s back while letting out the occasional sigh.

“What are you doing?”

Engineer spoke his words once again without taking his eyes off of his blueprints and other papers, though right now it seemed more like he didn’t want to _reward _Spy’s current behaviour by giving him too much attention.

“I’m pacing.”

“You don’t say. Something the matter?”

“One doesn’t pace when nothing is the matter.”

For the first time since entering Engie’s room, Spy managed to catch his attention as Engineer finally took his eyes off of his work and turned around in his chair, now facing Spy. His eyes were basically telling Spy to go on ahead and start ranting, since Engineer very well knew that, more often than not, Spy came to his room to do just that, rant about things. Most of the time Engineer didn’t mind, to be honest he quite liked the company of the Frenchman and just listening to him talking, but considering last nights event, Engie had a feeling he knew what this tirade was going to be about and in all honesty, he didn’t want to have to deal with it. Not tonight. He knew, however, that him not wanting to hear about something didn’t mean Spy wasn’t going to talk about it, so instead of protesting he decided to just get it over with and let Spy talk his talk.

“I think something is going on with Sniper.”

“Well, he did have a panic attack last night. Guess it’s normal for him to act a little off still.”

A sigh escaped from Spy’s mouth, rolling his eyes in response. Was Engineer seriously going to act like nothing was going on with Sniper? Looking each other straight in the eyes all Spy could think was that this reaction was typically Engineer, only willing to see the good situations and ignoring it whenever something simply wasn’t right.

“Are you honestly telling me you haven’t noticed any changes in Sniper’s behaviour? None at all?”

“Can’t really say that I have. However I’m sure you’re going to point things out to me right now.”

All Spy could do was shake his head in disbelieve. In a normal situation Engineer was actually a very pleasant person to convers about different topics with. Civil conversations, occasionally a bit of debating, Spy rather enjoyed the time he spend talking and honestly simply being around Engineer. He also considered Engineer to be nearly the only person at base he could trust enough to tell some personal things about himself to. A perfect example thereof was that Engineer was the first person Spy trusted with his secret of being Scout’s father. However whenever Spy ranted about anything that had to do with Sniper, Engineer was like a brick wall, sometimes even worse than Scout could be. Spy was well aware that Engineer was rather fond of Sniper. He was fond of every single team member, but since Spy had already made it very clear that Sniper wasn’t his favourite person, it had seemed like a mission to Engineer to defend Sniper, no matter what.

“So you don’t think he’s been a little short tempered or on edge. That he’s had issues focusing every now and than. That he’s been more anxious lately.”

Spy emphasised especially that last statement, arching his eyebrow to put a little more power with it.

“All I’ve noticed is him appearing in the kitchen more regularly to get himself a snack, which, and correct me if I’m wrong, isn’t exactly a crime. You know, if I didn’t know any better, it would almost sound like you care about Sniper’s wellbeing.”

An insulted scoff escaped Spy as he shook his head and once again rolled his eyes, a softer version of his previous gaze now painting his face.

“Please, Engineer. You know me better than to say such nonsense.”

A sly little smirk appeared around Engineer’s lips as he saw a spark of playfulness flicker in Spy’s eyes. It seemed like he was done ranting and was now ready for a more light-hearted conversation, which Engineer definitely preferred.

“I’m pretty sure I can state that I know you quite well by now, don’t you think?”

“If you want to tell yourself that, go right ahead.”

Spy wasn’t immediately going to drop the doubts Sniper had caused him to have, but right now he decided to keep his further questions for himself, choosing not to bother Engineer with it any more than he already had. He was a spy after all, being mysterious was his job and had basically become his life. So was finding out anything and everything about the people surrounding him.

And finding out he would.

Eventually.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter. It took me a bit longer to write than I'd expected, but I finally finished it ^_^


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
There are depictions of a self harm scene in the second part of this chapter, plus mentions of a self harm habit, so please if you know that it'll affect you badly, do NOT read on or take great care! Your mental health is far more important than a chapter in a fanfiction, alright?  
Please take care

It felt like ages before the evening of that Saturday finally came. All day Sniper had been assuring people that he was doing just fine and despite the good-hearted nature of those questions, frankly the marksman was growing rather tired of it. Mostly because he absolutely hated being the centre of attention. If Sniper could fuse with the wallpaper he wouldn’t hesitate for a single moment and everyone asking if he was doing fine just left him a little nervous. Surely because he was rather aware of both Demo and Scout keeping a little bit of a closer watch on him.

He still wasn’t sure whether Scout had heard him lie to Demo or not. How long had Scout stood there? Had he really _just_ arrived or had he been eavesdropping?

Maybe it was all much more innocent than that? _Or_ had he perhaps heard Sniper try and feed Demo that stupid lie and had he found himself petrified at that fact? Petrified at the fact that Sniper was running around, telling people lies? And maybe, just maybe, Scout had wondered whether the things Sniper told _him_ were to be trusted or not.

_Oh shut up you, you’re getting all paranoid again._

Right now the marksman had found himself a little too exhausted to mill his brain into mush over it and seeing the way Scout tiredly rubbed his eyes and the way he was fighting to keep them open, Sniper knew he wasn’t exactly alone.

After all, the runner _had_ stayed up all night to make sure Sniper was okay. Seeing him saunter through Sniper’s RV like a zombie whilst getting himself ready for bed, might not be the strangest sight then.

But it was an endearing one nonetheless.

Sniper was already sat on his bunkbed, silently munching on a few of the chocolates Scout had snatched from the kitchen. Momentarily lost in thought, the sound of Scout’s voice gently coaxed him back to earth.

“Snipes?” Scout repeated.

“Hm?”

A tired grin appeared on the runner’s face. “I asked if you needed something before I join ya. Like water or something?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder and towards the kitchen. “Medic told me to make sure you drink enough, so perhaps that ain’t such a bad idea, huh?”

Sniper snorted and rather loudly too. “Come on, love. Can’t a man have a panic attack _once_ without being babied afterwards?” Sarcasm was oozing in with the humoristic nature of that sentence and seeing Scout’s facial expression go total blank for a moment before he rolled his eyes was rather amusing too.

“Funny.” Scout deadpanned, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge anyway and walking up to the bunkbed in a few strides. He tossed the water bottle up on the bed for Sniper to catch before climbing up the ladder and squeezing himself in his usual spot between Sniper and the wall. “Remind me again why I put up with you?”

“Hm,” Sniper noised, looking at Scout with an expression that said he would give that question a _real_ good thought. “perhaps because I’m so incredibly funny? Or no, it must be my amazing looks, right?”

Now it was Scout’s turn to snort out a laugh, his hand shooting out to playfully push Sniper away from him. “Shut _up_, you’re not even _close_ anyway.” The runner teased right back, giving the marksman a daring look from his place right next to him, before popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth for himself.

“Unfortunate. Those are the only two things I got going for myself, don’t I?” His brow furrowed in feigned thought, yet his expression suddenly lit up shortly after. “_That_ and my huge, magnificent, _thick_ and let’s not forget _pleasuring_ dic-“ Before Sniper could even finish that foolish thought Scout nearly jumped at him, hands covering his mouth to shut him up, entire expression fighting the urge to laugh and failing tremendously.

“_Shut up_, _please_. You’re killing me here, man.” Scout practically begged, cheeks slightly red too. “And besides, nobody calls their dick magnificent. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sniper relented, a satisfied smile across his face. “Alright, love. I’ll quit, you can’t handle the truth anyway. Thanks for the water though, really appreciate it.” He gave a quick peck on the runner’s lips, before taking the water bottle and actually drinking some.

The runner yawned long and loud, stretching slightly. “You’re lucky I’m here to take care of you man. Imagine me _not_ being here. Catastrophic.”

Sniper chuckled at that, wrapping his arms around the runner and cradling him against his chest. He wasn’t wrong. Sniper couldn’t imagine what would’ve become of himself if he hadn’t tumbled into Fortress, didn’t want to _think_ about the reality where he wouldn’t make these friends and meet Scout.

It’d be rather _dire_, to keep a long story short.

“You’re absolutely right, love. Can’t even argue with that one.” He could feel Scout’s arms returning the gesture as they went to cautiously wrap around the marksman, simultaneously reaching around him to hit the lights.

It was quiet for a little bit and for a moment there, Sniper thought Scout might have already slipped into slumber, given how tired he was. But it wasn’t much after, that Scout spoke again, voice meek and soft against his chest.

“All things aside though, I’m extremely glad you’re okay. I was real scared there for a moment.” The marksman absently nodded at those words, stroking a hand up and down the runner’s back and kissing the crown of his head. He could sense the deep emotion behind those words, exhausted and raw. When Sniper had his panic attack, Scout clearly had no idea what was going on, even going as far as to believe Sniper might be having a heart attack, but the marksman couldn’t blame him.

After all the runner had only seen him go through something like that exactly _one_ time before.

And that was on the evening of the day Sniper had gotten the news about both his parents passing away.

He had _no idea_ why that had triggered a panic attack. Surely because all day Sniper had appeared stoic and numb, receiving the news with a simple nod, expression like a stone. But the moment he got to his RV and sat himself down, alone and confused, everything Sniper had tried suppressing that day forced itself a way through Sniper’s skull and once it got to the point of overwhelming, the panic attack hit.

He remembered crying, remembered teetering on losing consciousness because of his unsteady breathing, remembered the darkness of his thoughts, remembered wanting it all to stop, remembered wanting_ out_.

It was only when Scout got to his RV too, only when the runner saw him in such a state, only when Scout touched his shoulder and dragged him back to earth, breaking down completely there and then with the runner to see it all, that Sniper _actually_ managed to calm down.

Given, that panic attack had been far less severe than the one he’d experienced last night, Scout might have not even realised it _was_ a panic attack. But with the runner hugging and calming him Sniper had managed to work himself through it.

It was still a vivid memory in Sniper’s head.

Surely because that day Sniper had realised that both his parents had passed without ever knowing what really had been going on with him when he was a child. Perhaps _that_ was something that had triggered the panic attack as well, the fact that he could never come clean to his parents, the fact that he couldn’t explain to them that he’d been hurt, but that it wasn’t their fault in the slightest.

And the fact that he couldn’t tell them that he loved them _very_ dearly. At least not anymore.

“It’s okay, love.” Sniper whispered back, pressing another kiss onto the crown of Scout’s head and holding him just that _little bit_ tighter.

\--

Sniper hadn’t seen this coming. Hadn’t anticipated something like this to happen, but it had and before he properly knew it, the marksman was knocked onto the ground, bordering on unconscious.

A good week had passed ever since Sniper’s panic attack, a happening he now could only ever place as embarrassing and shameful. He’d been appearing far too much in the Medbay these days and Sniper detested it. He literally couldn’t be drawing more attention to himself, not even a _night_ had passed and the rest of the team already knew what had happened. Not to mention the fact that he’d left Scout with _yet another_ heart attack like it wouldn’t all have an effect on the runner, like Sniper somehow always finding himself in trouble wasn’t going to get suspicious. God fucking damn it, he didn’t want that. It’s true that Sniper feeling this certain way – that familiar angry feeling from when he was younger seemed to always stir his gut these days – only made things more difficult, but it should be more difficult for _him_, not for the others.

Since Sniper’s panic attack had thrown a spanner in the works of Demo and himself going out that weekend, the two of them had moved it a week. Sniper could tell that the Scot hadn’t been all that keen with them cutting it so close after what had happened to the marksman. But Sniper had been unmovable, spirit like a boulder. He wanted to go out that weekend, they _had to_.

But this exact moment might have been the ultimate proof that Sniper still wasn’t focused enough.

“What the fuck is going on here?!” The guy they’d been trying to assassinate basically spit out as he looked down at Sniper. The man had noticed Sniper creeping up on him while Demo was distracting him and merely a moment later, the marksman had been knocked right onto his ass. Luckily for the marksman, Demo was both _armed _out of precaution and _quick_ to spring to action before the guy could rough him up even more. The Scot swiftly whirled his arm around the dude’s neck, pulling him back harshly and away from Sniper. The marksman watched it all happen from his place still on the ground, waiting for his head to stop spinning, and remembered that Demo was actually a very strong someone as he observed how the Scot nearly effortlessly threw this man to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Subsequently, Demo placed his right foot onto the man’s chest, pressing down hard before feeling for the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a hand gun. Sniper was slightly taken aback by that set of actions, but there was no time to muse it over, because not much after Demo aimed and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot reverberated through the alley and from where he was sat, Sniper could tell Demo had made a right mess of the man’s skull. A surprisingly clean shot, surely for someone who barely used handguns in the first place.

Sniper could see that Demo needed a moment to collect himself before turning himself around and offering out his hand to pull Sniper back onto his feet. The marksman brushed himself off and thanked Demo for saving him, brow still slightly risen out of _surprise_, really.

“You’re lucky I actually managed to make that shot,” Demo said, gesturing to his eyepatch. “Depth perception ain’t exactly what it should be.” The marksman softly chuckled at that, he was impressed to say the least, yet guilt was quick to seep in too, knowing that Demo usually kept his hands _cleaner _and that this was, without a doubt, going to stay with him for a while.

If this guy hadn’t done it for Sniper before, the marksman really wanted to hit himself over the head with something. He could see in every inch of Demo’s countenance that he was tense, _shocked_ by his own actions, by how fluent he’d pinned the guy down and ended his life. Not that Demo hadn’t ever found himself in a situation like this before, the man was a mercenary after all, but Sniper knew that Demo’s company assigned missions and his own, were quite different.

He hadn’t meant to put Demo in this sort of turmoil.

“Are you okay?” Demo asked eventually and Sniper nodded quickly, wanting to move on. “He managed to get you pretty bad though, are you sure?”

Only when Demo spoke those words did it occur to Sniper that his left eye _did_ feel a little swollen, not to mention the slight throbbing in his left cheek too. And then it hit him; oh _shit_, this is going to bruise.

Sniper sighed defeatedly. “Yeah I’m sure, it probably looks worse than it is, don’t worry about it.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s get rid of him and go back to base, alright?”

And despite the worried yet bewildered look on Demo’s face, the Scot nodded.

They ended up stuffing his body in the abandoned dumpster residing deep into the left alone alley, suspecting the rodents and insects present to do the rest of the job for them.

It was quiet, quiet when they hid the body and surely quiet during the ride home. Not a lot had happened that night, but what _had,_ had caused for something to change, Sniper could feel it. Maybe it was the way Demo held just that little bit tighter onto his steering wheel or the vision in Sniper’s left eye steadily going more blurry. He wasn’t sure, but the thought of Demo quietly rehashing the night’s events, the past week’s events really, made Sniper anxious. It wouldn’t be long anymore until Demo would call it quits, until Demo would be at his limit and call everything off just as quickly as it all had started.

And that just fucked Sniper up so badly.

The marksman easily worked himself through three cigarettes before the base eventually drew into the picture. He didn’t even bother to stick around for a drink when Demo finally parked his car, afraid the Scot might suggest wanting to quit during it and he wasn’t sure how he’d react and frankly, Sniper didn’t want to find out either.

So he thanked the Scot once again for saving him back there, telling him he was really too tired to stick around a little longer and only hearing Demo tell him to take care of his injuries before closing the door to the passenger seat and disappearing from the garage.

His head felt plane fuzzy as he left. A beautiful combination of both the migraine cooking his brain from being punched and the stressful car ride he’d just had.

The marksman consciously walked away from base towards his RV, a place he knew Scout _wouldn’t_ be. Originally they’d said to spend the night in Scout’s room that day, but with the state he was in right now, Sniper needed a moment to himself. So alone in his RV at two in the morning it was.

And besides, he couldn’t even fathom the worry he’d once again put the runner through if he appeared in his room like this. One of these days he would give Scout a bloody aneurysm with all the stressful things that have been happening.

Jesus _fuck_ it was all just a disaster.

He opened the door to his RV and flicked the light switch, watching the little space gain colour before himself and suddenly feeling like the whole entire camper was far too little, the air within it far too pressing. He frowned at the empty air, finding himself slightly annoyed and that feeling only ever worsened when he walked further inside and clumsily bumped into a side table, knocking over a glass that fell into a few pieces once it hit the ground.

“Bloody _idiot_.” Sniper silently cursed at himself, straining to pick his mess up and flinching when he cut his index finger with one of the bigger pieces he’d gathered. A loud sigh escaped him as he got back onto his feet, walking towards his little closet like bathroom to clean the cut and subsequently take a look at the train wreck that was his face.

He took the piece of glass he’d accidentally cut himself with, with him into the bathroom to clean that up too, if only to make sure he wouldn’t have a blood covered piece of glass in his trash.

A second light switch was hit before the lights in the bathroom sprung to life. Sniper moved in front of the mirror and for a single moment there it felt like the breath was being knocked right out of him. The sight that stared back at him had him swallow nervously, brow crunching up with dread as he scanned his bruised face. His left eye was a dark purple colour and his left cheekbone and a part of his left cheek were badly bruised too. He could tell the colouring was merely at an early stage, indicating that when he’d wake up tomorrow it would only be _worse_. And Sniper panicked.

People were going to ask questions.

Medic was going to want to take a look at this.

Scout was going to worry himself into a fucking puddle again.

People are going to get suspicious. Sniper’s heart started pounding faster. People are going to start seeing right through him_._ His breathing picked up. People were going to ask what the hell was going on.

_Everything is falling apart._

He gripped tightly onto the porcelain sink beneath him. That horrible feeling of his head swimming and feeling like his whole entire being was floating returning to him fiercely.

And just as strongly did the suggestion of wanting to ground himself poke into view.

Sniper wasn’t exactly proud of it. After all, his hand had only _just_ been allowed without bandages, it was only now healing. He never knew what really came over him whenever he did something so _reckless,_ but all Sniper knew was that it worked, back in his nest when he’d punched that wall, back when he was little and he scratched and bit himself and now.

A nervous feeling coated his ears, throat, neck and chest. Limbs trembling slightly as he felt the piece of glass still very much present in his hand and started squeezing it, a certain force behind that action solely fuelled by anger.

Because how had things spiralled this far? How could Sniper have ever allowed that to happen? Every week he seems to find himself in another attention drawing situation, not to mention his poor capability to control his own damn emotions because of it. He was fucking up, his whole faked demeanour was breaking into pieces and recollecting it got harder and harder for _some fucking reason._

His life was a true mess and it took every ounce of strength for Sniper to not regret dragging other people into it. Like Scout, _oh Scout_. Even though the runner was by far one of the best things to ever happen to him, Sniper had always felt as though it wasn’t fair. Scout deserved better, someone capable of keeping their fucking shit together, someone who wasn’t so utterly broken.

But it didn’t matter, because here he was, squeezing the glass, feeling quite some blood heavily dripping down his hand and onto the floor and momentarily forgetting that there might be anyone out there who cared for him. If Sniper looked at the picture staring back from the mirror, the beaten up face, those same sad grey eyes he’s seen for as long as he could remember, he felt disgust, felt as though he truly wasn’t worth all this.

His free hand went to go cautiously touch his face, fingers slowly and softly feeling right at the outline of the bruises. As he did so, the sleeve of his shirt fell down slightly, exposing a part of his wrist and underarm. His eyes tiredly shifted, noticing the old markings there, the few hazy lines and dark patches that littered the area.

All scars, old and new, but honestly Sniper wasn’t really sure anymore. Ever since he’d become an assassin the marksman had gotten himself into enough fights to find himself weathered with scars from being attacked with a knife or deep bruising that had never really gone away. But he knew better than to blame it all on that.

Of course if someone like Scout or Medic asked, Sniper always had an answer at the ready. Oh those are just old scars from when I fell out of a tree when I was young. The bite marks? The dogs nipped me rather harshly when I was a child.

But the truth behind the matter was _quite _different.

Sniper had always been a nervous child and given the circumstances that shrouded his youth that little condition tended to overspill at times. Sometimes he found himself overwhelmed with all kinds of thoughts and feelings, leading into a rather severe habit of scratching and biting himself whenever he just couldn’t take it anymore.

It’d always managed to ground him, to _scare_ him out of those thoughts. That had always been the purpose too, to _ground _himself. When he punched the wall in his nest and now squeezing the glass, all Sniper was trying to do, was get himself out of these thoughts, to help him stop feeling this way.

It wasn’t exactly the healthiest way, Sniper was aware, but sometimes it was _hard_ to see the wood for the trees.

Suddenly the marksman felt a tremendous sting go through his hand, as if the twinge of the glass digging into his skin was only now registering. The immense pain woke him up from this strange trance. Slowly he brought up his right hand and uncurled his fingers from the glass it had tightly gripped. His hand, covered in blood, trembled as the piece tumbled to the ground and the damage was as clear as day. It stung, it stung like a right bitch, but it had done it’s job and Sniper merely took a deep breath before turning on the tab and cleaning the wound to the best of his abilities.

It looked like it needed stitches. It looked like it would be rather beneficial for Sniper if Medic took a look at it.

He shook his head. He’d brought this upon himself, frankly he didn’t deserve the help. Right now he tried quelling it with tightly wrapping a towel around it and ignoring the burning pain that left him in.

There were better things to do right now than go and wake up Medic at three in the morning. He needed to find an excuse to tell Scout, not to mention Demo. The Scot had seen him with a bruised face, not with his hand cut half open.

Sniper sighed deeply. He still had a good few hours before the rest would wake up anyway. He could do this, he would find _something _to tell them.

He always did.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm drowning in schoolwork and getting overwhelmed by simple tasks because being a complete and utter idiot is the only consistent thing in my life, but this has been one of the quickest updates I've ever done, I don't know what good priorities are and my life's a mess but that's okay, it's nothing new ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also, our finals are coming up real soon, so we're already sorry in advance if the next update takes a long while!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!  
\- Snoezibol


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of the important information: Trigger warning: Suicide, mention of suicide and suicidal thoughts, near suicide, self harm, mention of self harm, abuse, sexual abuse, mention of sexual abuse, pedophilia and mention of pedophilia and pedophilic behaviour. Also death in general just to be sure.   
This chapter is really heavy so if you could possibly get triggered in any way by any of these topics, don't read it.
> 
> Okay, now that's out of the way. Hey, how are you? It's been a while:)  
I took my sweet time with this chapter. I had exams to worry about and next to those our dog passed away at the end of May so my mind wasn't really set on writing.  
But hey, to make up for the wait a little bit I made an effort and wrote probably the longest chapter so far.

Mick took a last drag of his cigarette, after which he pushed out the remaining butt on the sole of his shoe and flicked it in a trashcan outside of his house. He’d picked up the habit of smoking three years ago now, when he was only fourteen years old and just barely. A little over a month after his birthday he’d been tempted into trying his very first cigarette while hanging out with three of his friends, his best friends really, in a rather hidden away by tree’s area behind the school. Since the beginning of the week, one of the boys named Oliver had been boasting about the pack of cigarettes he’d stolen from his dad’s stock and about how he was going to _smoke them all in one go._ Another boy named Lucas had been challenging the third boy of the bunch, Isaac, and Mick to join them in the oh so important quest of _smoking them all_. Oddly enough, not a lot of convincing had to be done for the four boys to meet up after school on a Friday with the pack of cigarettes and a box of matches present, thus starting a smoking addiction for three fourth of the group and an _occasional _smoking habit for the remaining 25 percent.

Mick vividly remembered his first drag of a cigarette still. The filter was pressed between his lips so tightly that it was nearly a miracle for the thing to not have snapped in half and break off. As he took his very first drag, the match he’d used to light the cigarette positioned rather close towards his face still, he could feel the smoke attack the back of his throat, sending him into a coughing fit causing him to drop both the match from his hand and the cigarette from his lips. Mick quickly trampled on both to make sure no fire would be started, considering the ground was covered in moss and leaves.

As if he’d been thrown out of the saddle by a horse and wanted to get back in right away, he grabbed another cigarette from the pack and lit it equally as fast as he’d dropped the previous one, this time inhaling a little slower in hopes of making it easier to take in the smoke. As he felt the smoke hit the back of his throat once again, slower and in smaller portions this time, he fought off the urge to spit it out together with the cigarette, letting it sit in the back of his throat for a moment instead before grabbing the cigarette between his pointer finger and middle finger and blowing the smoke back out steadily and carefully. The prickly sensation present in his throat nearly caused for tears to well up in his eyes, but Mick knew to fight those off as well.

Now, at seventeen, it was part of Mick’s evening routine to take Lola for a walk after dinner so he could have a quick smoke. He didn’t have to do it to keep his smoking a secret as Mick was well aware of the fact that both his parents knew he smoked. His dad was a smoker as well and had never really expressed any annoyance or discomfort towards his son’s smoking habit, going as far even as telling his mother that their son being a smoker didn’t mean the end of the world nearing.

He honestly did it out of consideration for his mother, as he knew that even though his mother was aware of her son being a smoker, that didn’t mean she enjoyed seeing him do so.

\--

“Mundy residence, Bonnie Mundy speaking.”

Mick could see his mother furrow her eyebrows as the entire expression on her face slowly changed from the typical friendly smile she usually sported to a more serious and concerned one. He quickly took of Lola’s leash, letting her waddle up the stairs towards his room, after which he took place on the lowest step of the stairs and carefully listened in.

“Oh my… What happened?”

Mick noticed his father now had shifted his point of interest from the newspaper he was flipping through to his wife looking more and more concerned and saddened with every passing second.

“O-okay, thank you for letting us know.”

Bonnie’s eyes started watering as she spoke her last few words before hanging up the phone. She bit her lip to try and hold herself from crying as she looked up to her husband sitting in front of her. The expression painted on Jonathan Mundy’s face was one that neither his wife nor his son had seen on him before, considering he expressed little emotion on the regular. He looked both worried and confused at the same time and it was obvious from the way he sat and held his body that he was slightly anxious to hear the news his wife had just now received.

“What is it? Did something happen?”

Jonathan’s words sounded like a low, mumbled whisper, which made Mick’s eyes grow bigger thinking about what it could have been his mother had been called about. Did something happen to his grandparents perhaps?

“Mickey, sweety can you come sit at the table with us for a minute?”

Slightly surprised by those words, Mick got up from the lowest step of the stairs and walked into the kitchen again, taking his seat in the empty chair next to his father. His mother’s serious expression made him feel more and more uncomfortable about the situation. He simply wanted to know what was going on and from the way his father had positioned his body, Mick assumed him to have the same feelings and thoughts right now.

“What’s going on mum? Did something happen? Are grandma and grandpa alright?”

“Oh no sweety, grandma and grandpa are just fine… It’s about uncle Gary.”

That name alone was enough to sent shivers down Mick’s spine. He could feel himself get anxious, heartrate quickening slightly as he now definitely wanted to know what the hell the call was about. All kinds of scenario’s started popping up in his head, some more prominent than others. What if he’s going to jail? Maybe somebody found out certain things? If that’s true, have they found out about what uncle Gary has been doing to him as well? The thought by itself caused for him to feel his stomach turn and made him feel ill for just a split second.

Mick wasn’t prepared however for the words that next left his mother’s lips and when he heard them, it felt like his emotions got shut off and he didn’t feel anything at all. As if he’d been shoved into a well with a strong push and just kept falling and falling without ever being able to hit the bottom.

“Gary passed away.”

A moment of silence took over in the kitchen of the Mundy’s as Bonnie dropped her head into her hands and attempted to rub her tears out of her eyes. She took a few big breathes before explaining what had happened. Mick sat on his chair frozen in time as he stared into nothingness, his eyes fixed on the tabletop. Next to him Jonathan simply stared at his wife, back straight, forearms resting on the table, seemingly waiting for her to explain the situation that had caused his brother’s early death. People who didn’t know the man wouldn’t have noticed the nearly unnoticeable clenching of his jaw, that gave away Jonathan trying to hide his sadness.

“He got into a car accident… lost control over the wheel and drove full speed into a big tree. He died on the spot, pretty much immediately after his car collided with the tree. Apparently… apparently he was drunk.”

Bonnie took a big shaky breath as she looked at her husband, than her son and back at her husband, waiting for either of them to show any form of reaction.

“The Bloody idiot.” Jonathan mumbled.

“Jonathan!”

“I told him time and time again to not drink and drive, to be careful on the road, the be responsible for once, but did he ever listen? No, he didn’t, he just kept up his games and immature behaviour and now he’s… and now… now he’s… gone.”

Those last words were accompanied with a few tears rolling over Jonathan’s cheeks.

“It’s not fair.”

There the bottom of the well was and the landing smack was a hard one. Mick had woken up from his emotionless state to find himself filled with anger and he knew that if he stayed downstairs in the kitchen much longer, he might boil over.

“Oh Sweety, I know it’s not fair loosing a family member at such young age, but at least uncle Gary didn’t have to suffer. It all happened so quickly he probably didn’t even know what hit him.”

“He should have known!”

Mick quickly got up from his chair, ran out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into his room, throwing his door shut with a loud bang.

“Mickey!”

Jonathan grabbed Bonnie’s hand, preventing her from getting up and going after their son.

“Give him some time. He’s just emotional right now and needs some space to be able to get through this. He’ll be alright, just let him be mad and sad for a while.”

“You’re right. Everybody mourns in their own way I guess. I just don’t like seeing him like this, Jon. I wish he would talk to us from time to time, he’s always so quiet, never shares what he feels anymore. I-I just wish… he’d be more open with us… like he used to be when he was a little boy.”

\--

It’s not fair, it’s not fucking fair. Mick’s mind was going 100 miles a second, his eyes shifted over his room like a madman while his breath picked up. Tears were pricking his eyes as he was balling his fists so badly his nails were deeply digging into his skin. How was he supposed to be able to take peace with his piece of shit uncle dying quickly and painlessly in a car crash while he deserved nothing but the most painful and slow death that he could possibly get.

After everything Gary had done to him, all the times he’d made him feel scared and anxious, all the lies he’d fed him, the pictures, the pain. He’d made Mick feel so small, so insignificant, just something Gary could take advantage of without having to worry about the consequences everything he did would have.

The humiliation.

Mick’s emotions where boiling over as he could _never _talk to _anyone _about _anything _Gary had done to him. He couldn’t tell anyone and he simply didn’t want anyone to know. He didn’t want to be reminded of everything, didn’t want anyone to know about those shameful acts. In the beginning, when he was still very young, he’d wished for someone to find out about it and save him, but he soon learned that nobody could ever know about the entire situation. Everyone would look at him differently, pity him.

Shit, it wasn’t supposed to go like this. All these bottled up emotions should have been released in a completely different way. Mick had been thinking about it for a few years now, how he wanted to be the one to end Gary’s life. It would have been a way to try and somehow get a little piece of himself back, after that bastard had stolen away so much more that he’d never be able to get back. It would have been his turn taking, even though Mick knew it would never be a full compensation, at least it would have been something, but no.

No, Gary wouldn’t even give him that.

“He’d rather drive himself to death against a _fucking _tree!”

Mick’s own voice sounded hoarse and seemed rather distant. The sound of his words were being drowned out by the loudness of his thoughts, making his dark room seem even darker as he wasn’t focussing on his vision at all anymore. He couldn’t even think to care about whether his voice had been loud enough for his parents to hear or not, since he was so far away in his thoughts, they occupied him completely.

He should have been the one to do it. He had been thinking about it so often, had it al planned out. When the time was there, when he was ready, he should have been the one to end Gary’s life. Sure he’d felt more than just a bit uncomfortable by the thought of killing someone, but it was Gary. Surely there must have been something inside him able to kill Gary, after everything that he’d put him through.

It wouldn’t have been easy, but Mick would have gone to Gary’s house again. Not like a scared little boy this time, but like a man with a mission, with a goal.

He knew the house inside and out, so he was also aware of the gun Gary kept stored in the basement, always loaded with at least one bullet. He also knew where the ammo was if he needed it.

He knew that house too well…

It would have been a benefit to him, knowing every nook and cranny of that house. He would have been able to sneak in without Gary noticing, at least not until he wanted to be found out, until he’d had the time to get to the basement, get the gun, load it if there weren’t enough bullets in there for his liking. He would have been found the way he wanted to be found, pointing the gun at Gary, preferably at his balls. He would have shot a whole into Gary, and another, and another, and slowly let him bleed out while just standing there and watching. It would have been painful. It would have been what Gary deserved.

But Mickey couldn’t do it.

No, Mickey was a scared little idiot. A frightened loser who kept convincing himself that he just needed time, that he needed to prepare, that he wasn’t ready yet. And now what?

It was too late now.

Gary was dead. Died immediately, didn’t have to suffer.

Mick’s heart was beating like crazy, his breath unsteady. He’d changed from balling his hands into tight fists to scratching himself on his right arm which was now bleeding a little, but he didn’t care. He was so mad, so annoyed, with Gary, with himself, with the goddamn world. His body was shaking as his eyes were quickly moving through the dark room. The outline of his closet, his bed, his desk. They all were vague and blurry.

“FUCK!”

His outburst was accompanied by a hard kick against his bed, which caused a loud bang his parents must have definitely heard, but that wasn’t all Mick could hear. He was quickly pulled out of his spiralling thoughts by a soft whimper and a small bark coming from the bed.

“Lola?”

Mick had forgotten for a moment that he’d let Lola go to his room after their walk. She had moved from lying down to sitting up at the bed, looking at Mick with her piercing blue eyes, her head tilted a bit.

Mick took a deep, shaky breath and sat down on his bed next to her. Lola first put a paw on his thigh after which she placed her head there.

And there it was. Mick could no longer keep hold of his emotions. he shifted his body to now lay down on his bed with Lola in his arms, petting her head, and cried.

\--

“Mick, we really have to go, so grab Lola or don’t, it’s your choice, but do it quickly.”

Mick grabbed Lola by the collar, lead her in his dad’s truck and got in himself. Today was going to be a hard one as him and his dad were going to Gary’s house to clean up and prepare it to sell. Originally his mother wanted to come along as well, Mick assumed because she was worried about him even more after he’d walked down the stairs in the morning with a big wound on his right arm, but his father had convinced her that they’d be fine with just the two of them and that she should just stay at home. She did get them to wait with leaving a little longer for her to treat the wound on Mick’s arm, cleaning it out as it had gotten some dog fur stuck in it after sleeping next to Lola and bandaging it up so no other dirt could get in there.

While sitting next to his father in the car on their way to Gary’s farm, Mick was petting Lola’s brown and white head, trying to distract her as she tended to get a little nauseous whenever she drove along. She was fine as long as the car didn’t move, but the moment they started driving she’d focus too much on the odd factor of them being inside something and moving at the same time, so the best way to make her a _little_ less nauseous, was by distracting her attention away from the fact that they were moving and head scratches seemed to be the most efficient.

At the same time, Mick was trying to distract himself as well. Going back to that house made him feel more nervous than he wanted to admit to himself, but what was most to blame for this undertone of stress he was experiencing right now, was him not being certain about how he was going to react upon arriving. His own emotions had taken him by surprise the night before, he’d felt a lot of anger, sadness, shame, but as much as he’d felt than as little was he feeling right now. There was a certain numbness that had spread throughout himself and Mick simply wasn’t trusting it to stick around for too long.

The truck came to a standstill after driving onto what Mick had always known to be Gary’s property. His father was the first to get out of the vehicle, assuming his son to soon do the same, so Mick took a few quick breaths than opened the door. A slightly dizzy Lola immediately jumped out of the car, seemingly very glad to have her paws touch solid ground again. She’d drooled on herself a little during the drive, but appeared rather alright furthermore.

Mick quickly remembered the first time they realised Lola was carsick. They’d made an appointment with a veterinarian a few days after finding her, one of Jonathan’s colleagues as he himself was more specialised in cattle and other farm animals and less in actual pets, just to make sure that this poor dog they’d found didn’t suffer from something bad. An illness, a severe injury, anything really. They’d found her somewhere alongside the road after all. Funny was that when they’d found her and had been able to get her in the car, they assumed she was drooling and seemed nervous and uneasy because of being abandoned and being found and being taken with by these two people she’d never seen before, which probably was true to an extend, but not completely. She’d seemed weary of the people she’d ended up with for a while still so they hadn’t really thought anything of it. Even when she displayed the exact same behaviour the moment they started driving her to the vet a few days later, they didn’t think anything of it. After all it had only been a few days and all three of them were very aware that she didn’t really trust them yet, Mick a little more than his parents already, but still not enough to really feel comfortable with any of them yet. However upon arriving at the vet’s she immediately asked poor Lola whether she was carsick, which was exactly the same as straight away telling Mick and his father that Lola’s _symptoms _during driving pointed towards her being carsick. At the end of the appointment though, she was happy to say that, next to the obvious emotional trauma that came with being abandoned and probably not having been treated too greatly before the abandonment, the young little lady didn’t seem to be suffering from any injuries or illnesses and was deemed a healthy and good girl.

“It’s a good thing we were able to sell the cows to a nearby farm already and decided to keep the sheep on our own. Makes that we only have to deal with cleaning up the house and its contents.”

While Mick had still been asleep, it had taken him a while to be able to fall asleep after all, Jonathan and Bonnie had already been awake when the phone rang. A farmer Gary was acquainted with had heard of what had happened to Gary and offered to buy the cows for a decent price, since he could always use more and also assumed he could help out by doing so. Him and Jonathan agreed on a price after which Jonathan drove out to go and get the cows and bring them over to the neighbouring farm. By the time he got back home, Mick had just woken up and showed up downstairs with slightly red eyes and the wound on his arm, which he told his mother must have happened in his sleep.

“Ready?”

Mick nodded, so his father used the spare key Gary had given his brother for emergencies or for if he were to lose his and opened the front door.

“Shall we start in separate areas and work our way towards each other?”

Jonathan had a soft smile around his lips, yet his eyes looked sad. Entering his late little brother’s house hit him harder than he wanted to show.

“Shall I start upstairs at the attic and you start at the basement? Or if you want to switch, that’s fine as well?”

“Euhm, yeah, no I’ll start in the basement.”

The moment Mick said that he started to feel nervous about being in the house and definitely about going to the basement. It’s were he would have found the gun. It’s were he would have turned his live around, which is quite ironic since it’s also were his live had been ruined at some point in the past.

“W-what about Lola?”

Mick could hear the nervousness in his own voice and hoped that his father hadn’t noticed.

“How about we just leave the front door open? That way she can walk around on the property wherever she pleases and if she wants to come inside and find you, she can as well.”

Mick quickly nodded after which they both went their separate ways. Jonathan upstairs to the attic and Mick slowly descending towards the basement.

The basement was a mess, cardboard boxes everywhere, old furniture just laying around, buckets upon buckets of paint which Gary was supposed to use to brighten up the house a bit but never used. Cobwebs, dust and dirt seamed to be the collective factor to make the basement a cohesive chaos. Everything looked, simply said, gross, as if nobody had been there in a long while, as if Gary had been dead for a long while… and the house had been abandoned for years. The rest of the house didn’t really read that way, but the basement always had something… creepy, but that might as well just have been on Mick. Well to be honest, the rest of the house didn’t seem abandoned, but it would always be able to give Mick the creeps, no matter what age he would reach probably.

_“We’ll start by cleaning out the basement and attic, ‘cause the things stored there are probably going to be the things we’ll have to throw away most of. I think its best if we just load the truck with the smaller things first, the things that aren’t too heavy and when we get to the big stuff, we’ll simply have to ask each other to help. We’re going to have to work together on those.” _

Mick remembered his father telling him that while on their way in the truck. He’d been petting Lola, is mind occupied with nervousness, but he still remembered it. He quickly decided that the best thing to start with would probably be the paint buckets, so he grabbed two at a time and carried them up the stairs to drop them off in the hall. Once they were all gathered on the ground floor Mick started carrying them outside and organizing them into the truck. He noticed Lola running and sniffing around and couldn’t help but hope for a moment that a nice family with one or a few dogs would come and live here once the house would go up for sale. Perhaps that way the house would get a new atmosphere, a better one, a clean one. He whistled for Lola to come for a second, petted her on her head and scratched her behind her ears than let her go her marry way again, discovering the property a little further again as Mick went back inside, back to the basement to further clean it up.

As Mick was moving some cardboard boxes he cleared out a way to the closet he knew to be holding Gary’s gun and ammo. He had to breathe in a little deeper for a second as he suddenly remembered the tsunami of emotions that had hit him the night before, the sadness, the anger, the desire to have been the one to kill Gary. All of that seemed so far away now, while in actuality it had only been a few hours ago.

He never could have thought yesterday to be feeling this right now, but something inside Mick was a slight bit glad that he hadn’t killed Gary after all. Not because Gary didn’t deserve it, because he definitely did, but because this way he hadn’t become a murderer. Gary hadn’t been able to make him a murderer and somehow Mick was glad about that, at least a little.

As he was continuing cleaning up the basement, carrying boxes upstairs, Mick started to feel more and more at ease and it seemed like his mind was finally realising that Gary had actually died. He’d actually left this world, perhaps not in the painful way Mick had hoped he’d go, but he was in fact gone. He’d never be able to bother Mick again, had met his early demise. Who knows what age he would have reached had he not been a drunken driving dumbass, but he had been and so Mick wouldn’t have to worry about his existence anymore. It kind of felt like Mick had been set free somehow, knowing that Gary wouldn’t form a problem for a possible 30, maybe 40 more years.

Preparing to bring the last two cardboard boxes upstairs, Mick had to fight to hold his balance as he nearly twisted his ankle on a loose floorboard he’d poorly positioned his foot on. He quickly put down the boxes next to them, than checked on his ankle which hurt a little, but was fine altogether. While doing that he realised something, however. The floorboard wasn’t loose simply because the floor was old and creaky, no. It was loose because there was a hidden storage space underneath it. A shallow gap that contained a single shoebox and nothing else.

Curiosity fuelled his next actions as Mick grabbed the box from beneath the floor and slowly placed it next to him. It was mediocre in the weight department and Mick could hear some things shift and move inside of it as he’d changed its location. If he had to believe the stickers on the box it was supposed to contain size eleven male cowboy like boots, but the sounds he’d heard certainly didn’t seem to confirm that information.

Upon opening the box Mick could feel his heart skip a beat and his breathing pause for a second. Staring back at him were an uncountable amount of pictures of himself, half naked, fully naked, being touched, teary eyed, scared face. He recognized himself in different periods of his life, his age going from as young as seven years old in some of these pictures, to as old as about twelve, maybe thirteen in others.

A small gasp escaped Mick as he threw the lit back on the box and shoved it away from him. His hands were shaking and he could feel his throat tighten.

Why? Why was this here? Why did he have to find this?

Mick realised that he couldn’t just put the box back, someone was bound to find it at some point in time. He also couldn’t just put it with the other stuff in the truck, since he didn’t know whether his father was going to check everything before throwing things out or not and he didn’t want to take that risk. Also, what if they threw them out and somebody else found them? That could always happen.

No. No, Mick had to do something about these right now. He had to deal with them so they’d never see the light of day again, so they could never, ever fall into the wrong hands, in any hands really. He had to destroy them, completely.

Getting up from the floor Mick could feel his stomach turn, feel himself get sick and also a bit lightheaded. How was it possible that even after dying, Gary still had a way of dictating Mick’s life?

_Idiot… As if Gary dying would magically erase everything that he’d done, all those years just miraculously wiped out. As if nothing had happened? Hoping now that he’s dead a normal life could finally start? How imbecilic…_

Mick was tainted. Everything Gary had ever done to him, it stuck to him like a shadow, following him around wherever he’d go, forever.

There was only one way to get rid of a shadow…

Mick walked towards the closet, which was easier to reach now, and opened it to find what he was already 100% certain he would find there, Gary’s gun. It was a simple 45 calibre handgun which Gary habitually always kept loaded. Upon checking Mick saw that there was exactly one bullet left. It wasn’t much… but it was enough.

He grabbed the shoebox next, walked up the stairs as calm and inaudible as possible, than left through the front door as if he’d just be bringing something to the truck. Once outside, he went around the house and towards the line where the garden ended and a forest started. He looked back one last time, feeling hesitant for a moment, after which he turned his back towards the house and ran deeper into the forest.

Once Mick felt he was deep enough into the forest to not be found too easily, he stopped running and started to grab some branches and leaves from the trees, throwing them together on the ground. After he’d gathered a little pile he fished his pack of cigarettes and a box of matches out of his back pocket and lit one. He opened the shoebox again and this time forced himself to really look at the pictures, no matter how sick they made him feel.

The kid staring back at him looked so young, so small, so scared… and so alone. He couldn’t talk to anyone, couldn’t ask for help. All he could do was wish for everything to stop and all to be over one day, but that was just wishful thinking. It would _never_ really be over.

Mick grabbed the shoebox with the pictures in it and threw the content on top of the pile of leaves and twigs. He than hovered over it and dropped his still lit cigarette out of his mouth into the pile, after which he lit a match and dropped it in there as well, and another one, and another and another, and another, until his hands trembled so badly he could no longer properly control them enough to light another match. Angerly he threw the box of matches into the fresh flames that were softly embracing the pictures.

Children were born pure and innocent and they were supposed to stay that way as long as they were a child, but Mick didn’t have that luck. Gary had broken him, beyond repair, nothing that could be done to fix him. no matter how many pictures he’d burn, no matter how hard he’d tried to erase the past, he simply couldn’t. Mick was painted for life, scared for life, forever ruined.

He wasn’t going to be able to bounce back from this. No matter how much he’d hope to be able to live a normal life, he knew he’d never get that… so why bother trying?

As he saw the pictures in the fire slowly turn into nothing more than ashes, Mick turned his attention away from that and towards the other thing he’d brought with him. His eyes stayed locked on the gun as he was unsteadily and heavily breathing, tears streaming down his face.

_You’ll never be okay…_

He tried to calm himself down by taking a few big breaths but it was to no avail.

_Nobody cares about you, not really…_

His hand slowly grabbed hold of the gun.

_You’ll never be loved. Nobody wants something that’s already broken…_

Mick was now hyperventilating as he took the safety off and slowly moved the gun closer and closer towards his head.

_You’re unlovable, you’re disgusting, you’re worthless…_

The cold metal touched Mick’s temple as his pointer finger shakingly moved towards the trigger. He felt his knees go weak as he sought all the strength he could find to be able to go through with it, to make it so he would never have to be strong ever again.

He took a big breath and…

And was suddenly caught of guard by the sound of whimpers and howls.

Mick quickly lowered the gun and looked behind him to find Lola standing there with big questioning eyes.

“Lola? Please just go away. There’s nothing you can do here. No reason for you to stay…”

Instead of obediently listening, Lola took a few steps closer to Mick, her piercing blue eyes locked on him.

“Stop! Go away, Lola. I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want you to witness what’s coming next…”

But Lola didn’t listen, instead once again getting a few steps closer to Mick, softly barking at him during.

Mick felt like he was going to throw up. His heart was beating like crazy, his entire body was trembling and shaking, but this voice in the back of his head just kept pressuring him.

_Do it… Do it you coward… Just do it… End it… Right here… Right now… It’s not like anyone would care anyway… Do it… Do it… DO IT._

Mick quickly found some new energy and placed to gun against his temple again. The metal kept tapping against his head as he was not at all capable of containing his own body. The shaking and trembling growing worse and worse.

Lola was now growling under her bark a little, her barks sounding more and more destressed as they grew more frequent.

“Go away, go away, go away… Leave me alone you stupid dog! GET OUT OF HERE! I…I can’t be fixed… I-it’s too late for me… I-I’m… I’m worthless”

Mick’s legs finally gave out as he dropped to the floor, which Lola saw as the perfect chance to run towards him and push herself against him, trying to get as much distance between Mick and the gun he’d held against his head only a moment ago. He finally let go of his tight grip on the gun, slightly pushing it away from himself as he moved to wrap his arms around Lola.

“You stubborn dog.”

Mick’s voice felt week from crying and yelling at Lola to go away.

He buried his face in her short fur and tried to steady his breathing, while his tears kept rolling over his cheeks.

He was glad to have Lola, was glad she was there with him and it was difficult to do but he had to admit it. He was glad she’d been able to stop him.

She’d saved his life.

\--

Sniper was sitting down in his RV trying as hard as he could to put pressure on his wounded hand, hoping that he wouldn’t need stitches after all. He’d also put a bag of iced peas on his face to try and counter the bruising at least a little bit.

The memory of _that_ day, how all of his thoughts had turned so dark so quickly, had popped up so suddenly and so vividly that it had taken Sniper by surprise.

If his father and him had never found Lola, if he hadn’t put as much effort into getting close to her, if he hadn’t taken her with him back then, his life would have most likely ended that day, than and there, in the forest behind Gary’s farm.

He wouldn’t have lived past the age of seventeen. He wouldn’t have been alive to hear about what had happened to his parents. He wouldn’t have known that they’d pass away in a car accident together, having been driven of the road by a drunk driver. How they hadn’t been found until a full hour later. How they’d been rushed to the hospital, but that it had already been too late. How they’d both died from blood loss, slowly and painfully.

How they’d unrightfully ended up with the faith Gary should have met.

He would have been spared from knowing that.

But he would also have never joined fortress, never met any of the other mercenaries, he would have never met Scout.

Back in that forest, Sniper had been convinced nobody could ever be able to love him and yet Scout did. Scout loved him. He’d told him time and time again, he’d showed him affection, cared about him.

And Sniper loved Scout. He loved him more than he would ever be able to put into words. He loved him so much that it scared him sometimes.

Nobody could ever find out about his past, about anything that Gary had done to him, about anything he had nearly done or had actually done to himself. Nobody could ever know, but out of all the people in the world, all the people he’d grown to like over the years, he definitely didn’t want Scout to find out about his past.

He simply couldn’t predict what the runner’s reaction would be like. What he’d think, how he’d feel, what he’d say.

He didn’t want the option of loosing Scout to be on the table, so he lied when he felt like he had to, he made up stories, he didn’t answer things he didn’t want to answer.

He stayed mysterious, a closed book, hard to read.

He’d rather be known as the silent guy.

He simply loved the runner too much.

And that made him scared.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!  
Thank you for the read, I hope you liked the chapter. I once again want to apologize for the time it took.  
Furthermore I hope you're all still doing okay, taking care of yourself and the people around you, washing your hands,... all that good stuff.
> 
> Lots of Love,  
YRWrites


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains very few to no trigger warnings, besides a blood mention in the start and the general theme of Spy being a complete and utter nosy prick, this chapter should be trigger free (but if I missed something, do let me know!)

When Scout had decided to finally go to sleep last night, he knew it’d be in an empty bed considering that Sniper had gone out that evening. And when he woke up for the first time a good two hours after, a glance at his alarm clock told Scout that it wasn’t exactly odd that brushing a hand past the side of the bed Sniper usually occupied again left him with the knowledge that Sniper hadn’t returned yet, still out with Demo, drinking or whatever.

However, when morning finally poked into view and Scout once again awoke from deep slumber, this peculiar sense of dread crept into his limbs when, once again, brushing a hand past Sniper’s side of the bed deemed it empty and cold. The drowsy feeling of having just woken up was quickly replaced as Scout rolled over to find himself completely alone in his room at eight in the morning.

This wasn’t normal, he thought. His movement where a little jerky as he tried to make sense of himself and this entire situation. For the past months in which Sniper and Demo had this little arrangement of going out together, something like this had never occurred before, no matter how late it sometimes got, Sniper always made sure to return to Scout once home.

_Once home_.

There was a certain arch to Scout’s brow as he considered that. What if Sniper just hadn’t come home last night? Maybe something terrible had gone wrong, maybe they’d gone missing, maybe they’d gotten themselves into trouble, maybe they’d crashed their car, maybe-

He shook his head firmly, refusing to get this worked up without actually knowing what was going on. Then again, he couldn’t really blame himself for shifting into such gear that quickly, considering the odd things that have been happening with Sniper lately, Scout just couldn’t help but to _expect_ that something even odder would occur next and that despite how strange things may get, Sniper would just act like nothing special was going on.

Still, he knew he was useless without a clear head, so he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as best as he could before slipping out of bed and getting himself ready for the morning. Once he remotely managed to reign himself back, actually feeling calmer instead of just telling himself to chill out, Scout left his room in pursuit of the kitchen, hoping that would somehow solve all this, expecting to turn that corner and see Sniper sitting there, knowing he’ll have to tell himself “See! Ain’t nothing to worry about.” instead of allowing himself to think of doom scenarios all the time when things were only slightly less than normal.

But turning the corner that lead him to the kitchen, Scout hadn’t really been prepared for this stone to drop right into his stomach as he was met with the sight of Pyro and Demo sitting together, the sight of Spy reading the paper, the sight of Engineer scurrying around the kitchen with Soldier always managing to stand somewhere the hardhat just needed to be, the sight of Medic trying to wake himself up with some coffee after what clearly had been a sleepless night of hard work with Heavy next to him calmly and silently eating his breakfast, but not a sight where Sniper was sat somewhere amongst them and it made his expression fall harshly.

Okay, maybe it’s time to panic now.

“Morning, Scout.” Engineer greeted him, causing for the remaining mercs in the room to also lift their heads and look at the runner. Scout, however, didn’t really notice. He was far too occupied with staring out Demo’s way, wondering how it was possible for the Scot to sit there, obviously unscathed, but for Sniper to not be present at all. They’d gone out _together_ last night, right?

Demo quirked an eyebrow up at the runner’s piercing gaze. “Everything okay, lad? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The question managed to tear Scout away from his pondering, finally noticing _everyone_ looking at him with perplexity and forcing himself to act casual, or at least act like he wasn’t standing there, worried out of his goddamn mind. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Scout stated dismissively, blue eyes roaming the room for a moment only to notice the sharp look Spy was giving him right over the brim of his coffee coloured newspaper. He knew that expression, knew it meant his father was trying to decipher Scout’s real intentions here and seeing it, it only drove Scout to wanting to leave Spy even more clueless, it would serve him right for being such a nosy prick all of the time.

And besides, once Spy would hear that this would once again be about Sniper, he _knew_ the Frenchman would get even more suspicious.

So before continuing, Scout walked over to where Demo and Pyro were sat, hoping the rest of the team would just continue their morning like usual now and not listen to what he was about to ask Demo.

“Hey, cyclops, I got a question for you real quick though.” 

Demo looked up and away from the amusing confetti infested mess Pyro had been showing him - which perhaps Demo had been slightly helping with, that’s neither here or there - telling Scout to go right ahead and once again asking if he was okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry ‘bout it. But uhm,” He lingered there for a second, smiling down at Mumbles when they muttered something gleeful at him, before looking back at Demo and deciding against this anxious feeling that was slightly creeping up on him. He didn’t know why, all he had to do was ask Demo where Sniper was, but somewhere he was afraid he wasn’t going to like the answer. 

“I was just wondering, do you maybe know where Sniper’s at?” He tried to act indifferent about it, but once that question left him and this perplexed expression crossed Demo’s countenance, Scout felt like he was going to fucking burst from worry here. Surely the way the Scot’s brow furrowed and the calculated way in which he took a look around the kitchen, Scout already knew he had no single clue where Sniper was.

“He isn’t with you?” Now Scout could tell that Demo was trying real hard to be calm about this, also very aware after these few weeks of Sniper just getting himself into shit over and over again that him suddenly disappearing somehow would most definitely stress Scout out and Demo didn’t want to be an observer to Scout having a panic attack about it or something, but it didn’t matter! Because Scout was sure there was some logical reason for all of this and he’d find Sniper soon enough and then he’d have all the time in the world to kick his ass for worrying him like this.

“Maybe he’s just in his RV, I don’t know.” Scout ventured, running a hand through his hair as he chewed the inside of his cheek too.

Something in the Scot’s expression suddenly lit up as he heard those words. “Now that you mention it, when we arrived at base yesterday it did indeed look like he went to his RV instead of the base.”

Why would he do that? Scout asked himself, not really understanding why yesterday would be different compared to all the other nights Sniper and Demo had gone out. Maybe Sniper had just been completely shitfaced and hadn’t remembered them agreeing to sleep in the base, which would be a first for sure.

But it wasn’t unlikely.

“Was he okay when he left your car last night?” Scout asked in an attempt to make a little more sense of the situation, but this _look_ Demo suddenly gave him, oh that fucking expression of _well actually_, had Scout taking another dip on this wild rollercoaster of emotions. “What’s that look for?”

Demo quickly shook his head. “It’s nothing, lad. Just go take a look around his RV, alright? I’m sure he’s fine.” The smile on Demo’s face was about as artificial as Engineer’s gunslinger, but Scout knew it was futile to question Demo any further when he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. So he thanked the Scot anyway, gave Pyro another pat on the back before leaving them alone.

Yet as he turned himself around, he found his father’s eyes still very much on him. “Troubles with Sniper yet again?” Spy asked, tone rather unidentifiable as per usual when Spy tried to get information out of someone, but Scout wouldn’t relent, simply flipping him off before leaving the kitchen altogether.

Scout’s mind couldn’t stop for one damn minute as he walked outside the base and towards Sniper’s RV. He tried telling himself that it was all just a stupid coincidence and that Demo didn’t seem _that _worried and that once he entered the RV Sniper would just be sitting there reading his usual hunting magazine.

_Troubles with Sniper yet again?_

Scout hated how those words had sounded, surely coming from Spy. He couldn’t help but to feel like they were belittling in a way, as if all those times Spy telling his son he didn’t like seeing him with Sniper were finally making sense somehow and Scout hated it. Just for that fact alone did he want to prove Spy wrong, prove everyone wrong.

He stopped dead in his tracks right in front of Sniper’s RV, hand coming up to knock before shaking his head and reaching for the door handle instead. He was nervous, just slightly, but he was.

_Please prove me wrong_.

A few things caught his attention when Scout entered the RV. Firstly it was dark, dark in a way that lead Scout to believe Sniper might not be here after all, heart slightly picking up pace at the thought only to calm down immediately once he noticed Sniper vast asleep on his couch. And secondly he noticed a bit of a mess in the couch’s general area, a mess he couldn’t really identify unless he’d step closer.

But first, however, Scout opened the little curtains covering the window, just to grand himself some light without threatening to wake Sniper up. If he was still asleep _now_, it meant he really needed it.

Unfortunately for Scout, however, once he stepped closer to the couch and to the sleeping form of his lover he caught sight of three things that had his heart stop harshly for a moment; one wadded up, bloodied towel on the ground, another bloodied towel wrapped tightly around his right hand and Sniper’s left eye blackened so badly it’d spread out to his left cheek as well.

He looked like absolute hell and Scout finally understood why he hadn’t shown up in his room last night.

The sight of those things combined had Scout wanting to shake Sniper awake, ask him what the actual fuck was going on, ask what kind of dumb situation he’d gotten himself into again, ask why he hadn’t gone to Medic with this injury that clearly didn’t seem to solve itself and ask why he hadn’t come to _him_, but rather hide away in his RV from everyone.

But he contained himself. Looking down at Sniper, this sudden feeling of compassion and care flooded his chest and he knew he wouldn’t help Sniper by overwhelming him with things he probably didn’t even have an answer to. So Scout took a deep breath, swallowed his dread and worry and slowly ran a hand through Sniper’s hair before starting to clean up a little.

First he gathered the bloodied towel laying on the ground and went to throw it away, deciding that piece of cloth was beyond saving at that point and promptly returning with a blanket he knew laid stored in one of his kitchen cabinets to put it over Sniper in an attempt to make that far too little couch for this lanky man a bit more comfortable.

After that Scout took a little step back, looking Sniper over and doing so, it only made his brow furrow further, expression falling with the knowledge that he just… wasn’t doing well and Scout had no idea what was going on. From that sickening black eye to his hand to the countless badly faded scars he knew littered the marksman’s frame, it was all just _so_ worrying.

Also because Sniper had an answer for all of it, every time and as much as Scout hated it, there was always this strange feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that didn’t believe what Sniper told him. Surely these last few months, surely after he’d _heard_ Sniper lie to Demo, it got him thinking, _why wouldn’t he lie to me too?_

But Scout shook his head, because he honestly didn’t want to think like that, not about the person he loved so dearly. Maybe he was being too dismissive, but he told himself that once Sniper woke up he’d _actually_ ask him what was going on, demand Sniper to explain himself and he wouldn’t let it go until things started to make a bit more sense.

But for now all he could do was sit himself down on the ground next to Sniper and wait for him to wake up. He ran his hand through Sniper’s hair a couple more times, saw him shift in his sleep and heard him sigh _deeply_ and despite the circumstances, despite what a mess Sniper looked like right now, it was still a peaceful little moment. Now Scout had no idea if Sniper had taken sleeping medication to help him, but the runner had a hunch that he hadn’t, considering that he was laying on his couch and not in his bed and actually seeing him get some sleep and without him constantly tossing and turning, Scout was happy at least _that_ was happening.

Seemed like whoever clocked him in the face had also granted him a good night sleep.

After a bit of sitting there, Scout tiredly rubbed his face before standing up to get himself some water. The sound of his stomach growling at him had reminded Scout that oh yeah, he hadn’t quite eaten yet, but he didn’t want to bother going back to base and risk missing Sniper waking up and catching him at a crucial point, so he filled up on water, he’d eat afterwards.

But as he returned to his place sitting on the ground, he only now noticed a tiny polaroid picture laying on the side table stood next to the couch. Only when Scout put his glass there did he notice and picked it up to take a better look at it.

If Scout had to guess, this was probably taken a good fifteen to sixteen years ago because it seemed as if Sniper was around fifteen years old. But there was another participant in that picture that actually caught Scout’s eye and that was the dog looking goofily at the camera and being embraced by a young but tired looking Sniper. He turned it around to take a look at the back in the off change something was written on it and to Scout’s surprise there was.

_Mick and Lola, ‘53_

“Lola?” Scout asked himself, remembering Sniper telling him about owning dogs when he was little, but he’d never mentioned names, never mentioned them like they’d been _that_ crucial of a part in his life, but somehow, to Scout, this picture radiated different energy.

While Scout was taking a better look at the old picture, next to him, Sniper _finally_ shifted awake. Scout watched how he slowly blinked his eyes open, giving the ceiling above him this dirty look before seemingly realising where he was _and _realise that Scout was sitting right there next to him.

“Finally awake I see?” Scout said, expression trying to mask how stressed he’d been the past few hours. But as Sniper looked back at the runner, his own expression morphed into this look of “_aha fuck, busted._”, this little guilty smile appearing on his face too.

“Reckon you got some questions?” Sniper said, voice deep with sleep and eyes _oh so _tired, yet that same glimpse shone through in his expression, that goofy kind of edge Sniper always fell back on when trying to explain these kind of situations it seemed. It was a dismissive little thing that Scout hadn’t even noticed at first, but he noticed it now in the way his expression morphed, mouth ever so slightly shaped into a smile and eyes soft. But he knew better now, wouldn’t allow Sniper to be that dismissive anymore. He wanted answers.

But he tried to be light about it first. “Yeah, you trying to go for Demo’s look or something? What happened to you?”

Sniper’s brow rose as he pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing all of his face that didn’t feel sore like absolute hell. “Not at all, Demo’s depth perception is rubbish.” And there it was again, that attempt at banter to distract Scout from the real issue, but he was prepared this time.

“Not what I meant, babe.” Scout was quick to say, tone serious in a way that caught Sniper a little of guard, Scout could tell. “What happened?” He repeated.

Sniper sighed deeply, gaze averting and lowering to the blanket still covering his legs. “I got in a fight with some bloke at the bar yesterday.” He eventually answered, looking back at the runner still sat on the floor. “It was stupid, really.”

Scout’s brow furrowed harshly. “That’s a first. Fighting at bars ain’t really your thing, is it?” The runner couldn’t really help but find that hard to believe, surely because Sniper always had a tendency to get judgmental whenever someone of the team got in a fight at a bar, usually just silently watching it unfold from a distance, even when _Scout_ managed to get into a bar brawl and now he’d just gone and got into one himself? “What about your hand? Did that also happen during the fight.”

Surprisingly, Sniper shook his head. “No, I broke a glass yesterday and cut it on one of the pieces while cleaning it up. _Also_, something very stupid.”

“Idiot.” Scout quipped silently, wholeheartedly agreeing to _that_ and the fact that he’d just stupidly wrapped a towel around it, probably not even clean it properly either. Sniper’s always been a right fool with stuff like that.

“I know.” Sniper nodded. “You know I came to the RV last night so I couldn’t possibly worry you with looking like this, but I only made things worse I believe. I just-“ He paused for a second, running a hand through his hair in a way that showed genuine emotion, even if it was for just a second. “I wasn’t meant to fall asleep, I just wanted to take a quick nap, but I slept a bloody hole into the day and here we are.” 

A silence fell over the two, a moment in which Scout took the opportunity to join Sniper on the couch instead of sitting on the floor, a moment in which the runner took his own time looking at Sniper and sighing deeply before brushing a hand past Sniper’s right arm, slowly descending to take that damaged hand – still properly wrapped into that _stupid_ towel – into his own and looked back up at the marksman.

And Scout realised that right there and then, was a fragile little moment. He could sense it in the way Sniper’s grey eyes gave his face this nervous look-over, whole entire posture shying away just a little, barely noticeable, yet Scout caught it somehow.

But he knew to be careful, to not overwhelm Sniper, so he tried softly, patiently, basically trying to summon everything within himself he wasn’t.

“What’s going on with you, Snipes?” Scout prompted gently. “What’s all this about?”

And Sniper’s answer followed, but not too quick and not too late, exactly in a fashion that made Scout believe it was genuine and not as if he’d been thinking about it since yesterday or had to make something up right there on the spot.

Or at least that’s what Scout told himself.

“I’ve just been stressed, I guess.” Sniper confessed, words slow and deliberate. “Just first with not being able to sleep too well and then that stupid panic attack and everyone’s just been paying so much attention to me, it’s been putting me on edge.”

“That’s understandable.” Scout said softly, understandingly running his hand past Sniper’s arm again in a sweet and comforting gesture. He knew that in those fields of life, Sniper and himself were the stark opposite. Where Scout doesn’t mind lots of people around him and the focus of a conversation or a situation being upon him, he knew Sniper would rather shrivel up and die than be the centre of attention sometimes and lately, with all the strange occurrences surrounding the marksman, everyone’s been checking up on him, with the best of intentions _of course_. But he could understand that it left Sniper a little nervous, could understand that it combined with everything else would lead to him stressed out and picking fights with people because of it.

Sniper stared ahead for a moment, thinking, before a little smirk formed on his face again. “Looking the way I do right now, reckon I only made that worse too. Everyone here is stellar and I love the blokes, but bloody hell are they nosy assholes when they want to be.”

That actually managed to crack Scout up a little, atmosphere in the room easing. “Surely Spy.”

“Oh, don’t even mention him.” Sniper spoke defeated, the thought of Spy bothering him alone enough to make him sigh out his own soul. It reminded Scout of that morning, of that look Spy gave him and that stupid question he’d asked him.

But it didn’t matter. Scout had gotten his answers and he felt as though he didn’t want to poke Sniper further with questionnaire that frankly only served to settle his own thoughts instead of _actually_ just helping his boyfriend. So he offered; “Let me take a look at your hand, alright? I got a feeling you don’t want to go to Medic and I don’t want you getting an infection, so I’ll do it.”

It took a _bit_ of coaxing for Sniper to eventually agree and Scout did feel his stomach turn a little as he carefully unwrapped the towel from Sniper’s hand and actually got to see the damage. It was a big wound actually, but if Sniper said he’d gotten it from a little accident like that, than it must’ve been true.

He gave Sniper a sweet little peck on the cheek before rising from the couch to get some supplies, suddenly spotting the same polaroid picture he’d been looking at moments before Sniper woke up again and it reminded him that he’d wanted to ask about that.

“Question.”

Sniper looked up at Scout. “Shoot.”

“Who’s Lola?” And surprisingly hearing that name lit something up in Sniper’s expression, as if the memory of it alone managed to lift his spirits.

And it managed to spark story after story from Sniper while Scout took care of his hand, the atmosphere back to normal, back to that easy-going feeling they were used to.

But as everything went back to normal, Scout didn’t realise in the slightest that he’d been once again manipulated right out of a crucial situation.

\--

Seeing Scout leave the kitchen that morning, clearly out of his element even though his attempts at hiding it, had Spy asking himself questions again. Truth was, he didn’t want to be up in Sniper’s business like this, at least not anymore, not since he’d managed to bury some of that distrust since Scout had shown to really care for that man, not to mention the disappointing tone he’d get from Engineer whenever he had to admit during one of their conversations that Sniper’s actions had been on his mind an awful lot, but sometimes he couldn’t really help it.

Scout was his son after all and whenever this hunch occurred to him, this feeling that whatever Sniper was doing, not necessarily _to_ Scout, but was effecting Scout in any way, he wanted to know what was going on. He had to.

And after trying to talk to Scout about it, after trying to prove his point to Engineer, Spy knew only one other person that perhaps could shed some light on the situation; Medic.

Now Spy was aware that Medic couldn’t just spout information, surely not if any of that information was medical of nature, but Spy had some sneaky tricks up his sleeve and knew of more than a few ways on making people talk without them even noticing. He was a spy after all and in his own humble opinion, it would be a _waste_ not using that knowledge and _talent_.

He knocked on the door of the Medbay and hearing a distracted “Come in”, told Spy that he caught the German at _exactly_ the right time; playing a game of chess with Heavy, the perfect distraction.

He let himself in, his entrance earning a quick side glance from Medic before he quickly returned his focus on the game before himself again, absently greeting his teammate. “Ah Spy, in need of some medical attention?”

Spy paused for a moment, looked at the two and received a nod in greeting from the silent Russian giant, who furthermore said nothing, probably not wanting to get himself into stuff that isn’t his business. “No, Medic, I am not in need of medical attention, however, I did want to talk to you about something or rather _someone_.”

The way Spy so suspiciously worded that, had some of Medic’s focus leave the chess game before him and centre it on the Frenchman instead. Perfect. Spy was well aware that someone’s mind being at two places at once left space for errors to occur and that’s what he needed right now.

“Who could you possibly want to talk about with me? Scout? Engineer perhaps?” Medic asked, quirking up a single eyebrow as he managed to take one of Heavy’s pawns with his own.

Spy scoffed softly. “No, not either of them. I came here to talk to you about Sniper, if that is possible.”

That request had caused for a dramatic silence to fall all of a sudden, now _both_ Medic and Heavy’s heads turning to look at Spy a little taken aback and generally just not understanding Spy’s intentions here.

“Excuse me?” Medic asked, sharing a quick look with Heavy.

“Yes, I recognize that this might be a little odd, but I could not help but notice that Sniper has been acting awfully out of character as of lately and I was just wondering whether you knew something more.”

Hearing Spy’s explanation, Medic was quick to scoff in the same fashion as Spy had done before him, simply returning to his game and giving the board a dire look when Heavy managed to take one of his knights. “To try and get medical information about one of your teammates you will need to come up with better excuses, herr Spy. _Everyone_ has been noticing Sniper acting strange.”

“I am not interested in Sniper’s medical information, the only information that is of use to me is that of our enemies. I am merely trying to understand what is going on.”

“Aren’t we all?” Medic fired back, one hand holding his chin in thought as his bishop made a daring move across the board. “I’ve seen Sniper appear in this Medbay more often than not lately and he just seems so lost, I do not know what to make of it.”

At those words, something in Spy’s posture brightened, noticing that his method was _working_! That, right there, was crucial information.

“Has he now?” Spy said, immediately noticing Medic’s expression falling at the realisation that Spy wasn’t supposed to know things like that. “And besides the panic attack and that one strange injury to his hand, has there been anything else?”

“Nothing you are supposed to know, so stop prying.” The German tried in what he also very well knew was a futile attempt, visibly getting a little frustrated with it too, surely after Heavy’s next move seemed to nearly bring his queen in jeopardy. “I understand that you might want to know these things for Scout’s sake, but I can assure you that you do not have to worry about it, Scout seems to be handling it quite okay himself, you know, like an _adult _and I am also quite certain your son would not appreciate you trying to pry in Sniper’s business… _again_.”

That was a bit of a low blow, but Spy understood that it usually took things like that to have him bite his own tongue for at least a moment. Still, he wanted his answers and he’d get them too.

“I already told you Medic, I am merely trying to make sense of this situation and so are you. If we work together this might be a little easier.” He said, trying to stroll through the room and towards Medic’s desk, taking what seemed to be a nosy look at the things that were laid out there, but it was yet again another distraction and judging the way Medic took a look over his shoulder and quickly rose from his chair, it seemed to be working.

“As much as I would like to understand what is going on with Sniper, maybe it is simply not our thing to know. Now,” Medic spoke, looking Spy right in the eyes, expression stoic and serious as he stared his teammate down. “get away from my desk.”

Spy held his hands up in defeat, wry little smile on his face as he stepped away. “How unfortunate. I know Sniper and myself had our differences, but after seeing him go through moments like that panic attack, even _I_ get worried.”

Medic rolled his eyes at that dramatic little speech, taking his seat at the table again only to manage to take one of Heavy’s poorly placed knights, momentarily so fed up with this conversation, Spy’s attitude and the way he couldn’t focus properly on all these things at the same time that he ended up saying something stupid anyway, _just_ as Spy had anticipated.

“Well that panic attack is not something you have to worry about and besides, there is still a slight chance it was caused by the sleeping pills he is taking, but we are still in the progress of figuring that one out.” The German spoke in a sort of tone that wanted to sound witty and as if he’d managed to put Spy in his place, but that was so very quick to falter again when Spy’s response came as quick as lightning.

“Sleeping pills?”

\--

If Scout wasn’t half as charming as he damn well knew he was, Sniper would’ve never agreed to this, but sadly Scout knew to be a sweet talker and Sniper had a week spot for those sweet lingering kisses to his jawline and warm hugs _especially_ after such a horrible night and now here he was, somehow finding himself in the middle of a poker game with the rest of the team, _well aware_ that his teammates were looking at him as if he’d kicked the bucket last night.

And now he wasn’t really sure what was worse, them _asking_ what was going on or them just anxiously staring at him whenever he so much but made a move during the game.

Not to mention Medic. Sniper could tell the German was itching to ask him about his now bandaged up hand, aware it surely didn’t look like that yesterday, but maybe Sniper was just lucky or Medic was tired of his shit, but he didn’t ask and he hoped it would stay that way. He already couldn’t help himself and had asked if he would be allowed to take a look at Sniper’s eye, bringing up the possibility of his eye socket being broken, but Sniper managed to wave it off. Telling Medic that he was _real_ tired now, maybe later.

But what really started to feel like a menacing bother throughout this single poker game that had been going on for about half an hour, was the way Sniper noticed that Spy was looking at him, _observing_ him and he just didn’t like it. Surely because it seemed as if Spy was _trying_ to be subtle about it, probably thinking Sniper wouldn’t notice anyway and it felt belittling in a way, Sniper was observant as all fuck, even with one eye nearly boarded up.

And it gradually only got worse, when at a certain moment in the game everyone had folded their hands with varied groans of disapproval accompanying it, besides Spy and Sniper who were still going neck to neck for that big mount of chips placed in the middle of the table and it once again proved that no matter the situation or surrounding, Spy surely wasn’t a shy fellow.

Engineer placed another card onto the table and it had Sniper venturing another look at his own before he daringly took some of his chips and called a raise. But Spy wasn’t really impressed so it seemed, snorting out a single laugh as he called and matched Sniper’s raise.

“I can tell that you are lying, even through that swollen eye of yours.” Spy said with that same grin still on his face and it actually managed to throw Sniper off a little, not having expected Spy to be this bold all of a sudden.

But Sniper ignored it, simply shaking his head in disapproval and wanting to get this game along already, but it seemed as though he and Spy weren’t on the same page with that.

Surely not when Spy suddenly asked; “Come to think of it, how did that actually happen? Such injury?” That caused for a bit of a shift, surely in the rest of the team with most of them not really sure whether they should intervene or not. Sniper on the other hand just tried to stay calm, looking back at Spy with a rather blank expression and telling him to promptly piss off.

“Creative, Bushman.” Spy deadpanned. “No need to get so hostile, I was just asking a question.”

Sniper took another look at the game before them, trying to keep the focus on that. “And it’s none of your business, so I’d suggest you stop wasting your breath.”

“My my, Sniper, so eager on discarding this topic, if I did not know any better I would believe you were hiding something.” At this point Spy had already put his cards down, seemingly _forgetting_ about the game they were playing in pursuit of wanting answers. “With all these strange things just seemingly following you wherever you go, it is not weird people start asking questions, correct?”

In all the years Spy had been Sniper’s colleague, he’d always known him as a pest, a know-it-all and on more than one occasion had that caused for Sniper to actually lose his temper, to get mad and nearly find himself knocking out every last one of Spy’s teeth if it wouldn’t be for someone like Medic or Heavy or, and what mostly occurred, Engineer.

“Alright, that’s enough Spy, leave Slim alone.” Engie said in an attempt to defuse this bomb, but it was just futile. Spy had sunk in his teeth and he just wouldn’t let go for some reason.

“I am merely asking questions. Do not act ridiculous, I know most of you want to know too.”

That hit Sniper in a very strange place, deep inside somewhere where it hit hard and unexpected, making him feel real bad in only a matter of seconds. Because of course Sniper knew his teammates wanted to know what was going on, but the way Spy said it, it felt as though they’d been discussing all this behind his back whenever he wasn’t around to hear.

And he was used to that too, normally, Sniper wasn’t an idiot, he knew that it was simply a matter of time for questions to arise and stories to make their ways, but it still hit weird, it still _hurt_ for some reason.

It made him wonder, was Scout in on it too? Demo maybe? Heck even fucking Pyro perhaps? He didn’t know.

His heart was beating harshly, hands trembling all of a sudden as he could faintly hear Spy going into a discussion with Scout about the ordeal, heard Medic telling them to settle down, _felt_ one of Pyro’s hands on his shoulder as much as he heard Soldier ask him if he was okay and trying real hard not to shy away from it all.

These things just reminded him of when he was little, of all those times he found himself in strange occurrences and his parents talked about it behind his back, late at night, when he was supposed to be asleep or even with some of his aunts at times and sometimes, sometimes even with Gary.

“I even heard you have been needing quite a lot of medical attention these days, Medic even told me- Auwch!” A harsh kick to Spy’s knee had caused for that sentence to stop abruptly, but Sniper could tell where it was going. He wasn’t really sure whether Medic had actually told Spy these things or if Spy had weaselled it right out of him, but the thought didn’t help and Sniper wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without getting himself into another panic attack.

So when everything got too much, Sniper simply put his cards down and stood up, causing for the arguments and bordering on yelling to cease. “You know what, Spy?” Sniper said surprisingly calm, but there was a dangerous edge right there in his expression, something that told Spy that he was angry and distraught all at once and that now really wasn’t the time to mess with him. “I’m not in a mood for this.”

And with that, Sniper left the table.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It could occur that the next chapter will take a bit before it gets uploaded, but that's because my co-writer yrwrites is having finals this period and she will not be able to write, so please be understanding of that! Furthermore I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you all for reading!
> 
> -Snoezibol


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